Story Time
by l'il pirate
Summary: She despised the life of those rogues and criminals she had heard so many people admire in silence. The truth- she didn't know them. Then by chance they become part of her future, and he her entire future. Teague/OC
1. Story Time

:Disclaimer: All belongs to Disney- characters, locations and ships. What you don't recognise is mine entirely.

* * *

:Thank you everyone for showing interest in this story, I hope you're not disappointed.

I'm going to try to update every month or so if everything works out all right. Don't forget to read and review- positive, constructive criticism in appreciated, if you don't like it don't review don't tell me I suck, please, unless you can do it really nicely. Thank you for your cooperation.

Also chapters will change slightly as the story goes on, for example some chapters may be based on songs as they fit and others may be simply about a certain character and their past. Just little things like that to spice it up.

Enjoy!

l'il pirate

* * *

**:Story Time:**

Jack Sparrow walked along the deck of the Black Pearl hastily, pacing relentlessly. He looked over the bow of the ship into the dark foreboding night surrounding him and sighed. He turned back to the deck and the ghost of a crew sitting around in wait or completing some small frivolous tasks, but he took no notice, his mind was on other things.

It had been a long time for him, a long time since he had returned home. And although it was an easy voyage and rather enjoyable port Jack came to find the journey more unpleasant than he would have thought. Jack cringed as he looked over the bow again, rather anxious and nervous to see the first lights of Shipwreck appear.

He hated meeting with other pirates, mostly because he owed the majority of them money and the rest he owed them a payment of, more often than not, his blood. However it was not that he was entirely apathetic to return to the port but it was rather meeting family again, a family Jack never seemed to get along with, under very understanding circumstances.

Jack had been expected at Shipwreck months ago but he had purposely neglected the journey, something else Jack would likely be reprimanded for. Jack knew Teague, his father, would not be worried but he would be more irritated than anything. And his father irritated could prove deadly, as it had many times before for a variety of men.

Jack had heard rumours about the demise of the Black Pearl, its crew and captain and hoped that Teague knew better not to listen to listless babbles of idle sailors and townsfolk, then again many such rumours found their way to Shipwreck and the great majority of which's subject filled its very taverns and streets. Shipwreck was a grand place to disappear to, and that is why Jack loved it so.

Jack turned, tired of waiting anxiously to see Shipwreck, as soon as the island was spotted he would be alerted, there was no reason why he stood on deck and wait when he would be the first to know their position when he knew it himself. An hour, Jack told himself, an hour the lights will appear. Even though Jack hated the journey most time, he always knew the voyage, what they would encounter, the winds and the time until arrival.

Jack turned and sauntered toward his cabin. He knew his crew had been watching him pace relentlessly for the past hour and he hated the thought. Jack slowed. He could send all the crew below deck and then worry and pace all he wanted. Jack shook his head. Best to think in the privacy of his cabin, and not make such a spectacle, which he did quite a lot when he thought. Jack disappeared into his dark cabin and shut the door behind him, cracking his fingers nervously on the way in.

_o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o_

_A few hours later, on the island._

Jack slowly walked into the large but empty meeting room of the Brethren Court.

The room that had once been a ship, but since its days at the sea had been hollowed out, by carpenter or simply time. It was fitted with a huge sturdy table and chairs around about, each chair being different, elegant all but each from a different part of the world just like each Pirate Lord in which sat in them.

Above the table hung a huge anchor on its side and covered with candles, which's wax dripped down onto the table below. Jack looked up at it as he slowly walked by the table, wondering how they got it fastened up there like that when the thing that it hung from was as rotten as the half walls around him. Jack then looked around the room, he knew it well but found himself staring hard at each foot before he moved on.

Along each wall there were figureheads, like that of ones carved into the bow of a ship but much smaller. There were large white candles on each holder about the room's edge, which were overstocked and terribly heavy with excess melted wax and which gave the room a very old and almost gothic feeling. Each beautifully carved or crafted holder shawn brightly but even all together they only managed to keep the room aglow gently with yellow and dim orange light.

Jack looked up again, lingering at the second last chair of the table, the ceiling and walls were covered with cobwebs, old stringy seaweed and all manner of aquatic plant life along the old dark and rotten wood of the ceiling and down the walls. One wall, the one Jack now stood beside, held an entire stash of wine and rum, tucked away in neat and well-preserved shelves.

Jack looked at the shelves for but a moment, wishing he could look through them and see what he could find but he lifted his foot and headed forward again, past the last chair. At one end of the room, opposite to where Jack now stood was open to a larger and open aired chamber, fitted with bridges and walkways to the rest of the city. But here where Jack stood, at the other end of the room there was a smaller chamber, or half room attached.

This corner held a single chair, a few unmarked kegs, a large variety of candles, various trinkets and a few musical instruments. An old weathered and worn guitar being the most visible sitting upright beside the chair's arm. This corner, or final tip of the meeting room was made from the bow or stern of the ship and beside it held one smaller doorway, above the room nearly three feet and a single set of short steps leading down. Beyond that door was another ship, this one a great deal more preserved and maintained. A dull candle light could be seen through the door and a chest beside it, below more candles but other wise was silent and lifeless.

Jack stepped forward and into the sloped room, toward the chair and gingerly picked up the guitar sitting at the chair's side. Jack smiled to himself as he turned it over and fingered the small inlaid ivory details and the scared wood. He lifted it to his chest and lifted his leg to rest upon a small trunk at his feet.

Dropping the guitar into position Jack slid his finger tips along the strings silently before he lifted his hand to his forehead, touched his brow and lowered his hand to the strings, this time plucking gently as his fingers pressed and slid up and down the neck. Jack closed his eyes as a gentle hum of the guitar filled the air. With ease Jack's finger tips danced along the strings as the world began to fade into the background and all noise grew silent as the air was filled with the gentle melody and soothing tempo.

Then all of a sudden Jack's eyes opened and he dropped his hands from the strings as if they had touched hot iron. Jack lifted the guitar from his knee and dropped his leg, standing stiffly he set the guitar down where he had got it and turned. As he turned his eyes' fell upon a man standing across from him, in another large doorway leading down and out of the meeting room.

The man was dressed in a thick red coat, sash and large brown hat with golden feathers. Other than that the rest of this clothes were dark and bled together without notice. His face was creased and weathered but under all the lines and age was olive skin and eyes as dark as the worst stormy night. The man was silent and so was Jack.

Jack moved slowly away from the chair and guitar and stepped out of the cozy corner in the hull as if he had been caught invading. Jack met the man's eyes confidently for a moment then cast a glance to his right, where a middle sized dog, grey and wiry haired, trotted up the stairs the man had come from, and slowed at his side. The man moved now, walking forward slowly but away from Jack with the dog at his side. Jack's eyes followed him and he cleared his throat, tired of being ignored but the man still didn't acknowledge him. The man headed for the stairs leading to the other ship and Jack rolled his eyes.

"All right I get it, I'm late. 'Least I'm here." Jack exclaimed wryly.

The man didn't even halt, he climbed the few steps silently and disappeared into the door in the ship's hull. The dog only stopped on the threshold and cast a glance at Jack over his shoulder, a glance which Jack cursed at silently. Jack didn't like that dog, not since the first moment he attempted to break out of his cell and that despicable mutt ran away with the keys. As if it had been simply there, giving him such a glance to mock him the dog disappeared inside leaving Jack alone again. However Jack didn't move, he didn't even move for the doorway, but he faced the door and grumbled a moment, turned a circle, was tempted to leave then faced the doorway again.

"Da, come on I don't visit much. 'Least you could talk to me." He called childishly.

Inside was totally silent, Jack furrowed his brow and pouted his lips.

"Da?" he called and was caught off guard when the man stepped into the doorway not a half a second later with a stern look on his face.

Jack gave him a dry smile with large accepting eyes and the man shook his head.

"You call this a visit?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm here, ain't I?"

"With a great deal of dragging and prompting."

"Promoting? What do I get a present?"

He couldn't help but smile dryly, this man, _this boy_, would never grow up.

"You're far too old for presents' Jackie, besides what use does a man have for presents?"

Jack opened his mouth to protest but settled for a smile instead. "Well I'd have to depend on the said pre-"

"No. A man has no use for them, and less a pirate."

Jack gave him a blank but narrow eyed stare and then nod, one that was all too familiar with father and son.

"Next time you get here when you're called, and I want none of your excuses."

Jack nodded meekly this time. "Yes da."

Then he turned and stepped into the ship, stopping a moment later after noticing Jack had not moved caused him to turn and speak pointedly over his shoulder.

"I've just gotten some new spirits from Jamaica that should be enough to settle ye're wishes for a trinket or two."

Jack grinned while trying to sound nonchalant. "If it must."

Teague grinned and disappeared into his home with his son hard at his heels.

_o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o_

Teague, upon entering the ships' hull, which was his home, motioned for Jack to sit in a large chair sitting in the corner of this first room but Jack stood and looked around at the piles of books maps and wide selection of trinkets covering every surface. Jack grinned inwardly as he looked around the good sized room which was nearly covered-packed wall to wall with a wide variety of things. He felt like he had been instantly transported to a small cabin in the marsh of a distant island. Tia Dalma's. The one thing missing however was the goddess herself, and the distinct marsh odor.

Teague turned, only to offer Jack a glass which he took without even hardly glancing at it. Teague took his own glass to the chair opposite the one he offered Jack and sat down with the echo of a sigh. Jack continued to look around a few more moments, as he took the odd sip from his own glass. Teague watched his son move about the room with interest, eyeing the piles of dust and the arrangement of things but he said nothing. Only picked up a book here and there, touched a cabinet affectionately and straightened a pile of maps.

"Cleaning?" Jack inquired as he finally made for the chair across from his father.

Teague was rather silent as he looked around the room, his mind evidently filling with memories, but he quickly pushed them away.

"Nay."

"What's goin' on then? You always have things in order." Jack took a sip of his drink and sighed with a smile. His father always had the best spirits this side of a free shipment of the King's finest.

"It's time I get rid of this stuff." Teague said simply and Jack furrowed his brow.

"_This stuff_?" Jack set his drink down on a small table between him and his father and stood, his eyes locking on a trunk a few steps from his father's side.

"I thought you might be wantin' to have a look through 'fore it's all gone." Teague offered, his voice crackling slightly as Jack broke the lock open on the trunk and hoisted the lid open. His eyes fell, sadly, onto a collection of clothes folded neatly within. Jack turned his head quickly to his father, his eyes' dark and unbelieving.

"Da, you cant-" Jack closed his mouth and looked back down to the trunk. "These are mum's."

Teague turned his face away.

"Hordin' it won't help things' Jackie."

"But da . . . " Jack sunk to his knees and slowly slithered his hands over the chest's walls, gliding slowly over the clothes folded within. Jack clenched his teeth together as his fingers descended amongst the soft royal blue fabric bodice folded on top. His mother's favorite dress- he remembered it clearly, many memories he had of her pictured her in this dress. Jack, however, pushed his fingers further. He slowly lifted the blue dress and peaked below it, another dress- red, and then a forest green one. Jack remembered them all. Tentatively however he pressed further, slowly and nervously always digging down to the next layer, worried about what he might find.

Teague sat in his chair silently as he looked to the wall, away from where Jack kneeled before the trunk, going through such things Teague had locked away long ago with all the hurt and pain they had caused him.

"You're not keeping any of it?" Jack asked quietly as he come to a small box, which he pulled up and opened only to find his mothers modest collection of simple but elegant jewelry.

"No."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's no good to me." Teague answered, more harshly than intended.

Jack didn't bother persisting, he replaced the box of jewelry to its place and pulled a book out from the bottom of the chest. It was tied together with a black ribbon and Jack hesitated to untie it. Instead he stood up and carried it to his chair. As he sat, Jack looked up to his father, whose eyes had suddenly and unwillingly fell onto the dark brown leather bound book. Jack offered it to him and after some moments hesitation Teague took it gingerly from his son. Teague's fingers stroked the front gently, but only momentarily before he handed it back hastily- like pushing away a bad dream. Jack took it without question and Teague spoke, with a twinge of pain.

"It was 'er sketch book. She had another. It's around here somewhere. Whenever she wasn't talking, she was drawin'- had a real talent for it too."

Jack's fingers played with the ribbon but he didn't open it, not yet. He looked at his father and Teague read his eyes. He didn't speak, he only waved his hand slightly and dropped his gaze to his glass. Jack lowered his eyes to the book in his hands and slowly but surely tore the ribbon from around it. He hesitated a moment then turned to the first page.

_Arabelle Sparrow_

_Port of Mahanoro, Madagascar 1709_

_Courtesy of Captain Edward Teague_

Jack looked up at his father to see a faint smirk on his lips. Jack couldn't help but smirk as a host of happy memories ran through his father's eyes.

"Lass wouldn't stop drawing- I had to give 'er something to draw in or all me maps who have been drawn on."

"Mum drew on your maps?" Jack asked, letting a chuckle escape his lips.

"Aye, from any manner of sea creatures in the oceans to little sketches along the edges." Teague replied with a light smile for the past, but motioned for Jack to continue his search within the pages of his mothers past. "Go ahead."

Jack eagerly turned to the next page where he only stared. Jack studied the sketch very closely. The strokes were of utmost confidence and the textures amazing. He remembered his mother drawing at times but he had never seen very many of her drawings.

"Her first drawings do her no justice. She was practicing still." Teague offered and Jack just nodded- although he thought this drawing quite good. Turning the page Jack found the next more interesting than the first- well to him anyway. A large ship docked safely in the harbor. Jack squinted and brought the drawing up closer to the lamp between them. Jack's eyes flickered up to his father in mid examination.

"Its-"

"The _Ash Bough_, me first ship."

Jack nodded, he could have answered the question simply but it was not the ship that captured his attention so much as the man standing on deck, the only one with visible human like features- the rest of the men blurred together or out of sight. Jack smiled to himself as he recognized the man. Jack looked up and watched his father. They held eye contact for a long moment before Jack spoke.

"What was mum like?"

Teague was silent, his eyes examining his son closely for such a question. Jack's eyes flickered across the room, a tad anxious. He hadn't meant to ask such a question but he didn't know her like his father had known her.

"I didn't . . . " Jack looked back down at the drawing. "It's been a long time, I'm forgetting 'er. 'Sides I only knew 'er as mum, nothin' else."

Teague stood and walked past the open trunk without so much as a glance. Jack closed his eyes and sighed to himself thinking his father had enough of the conversation and was simply leaving but a shadow fell over him, causing him to open his eyes suddenly and look up. Teague walked past him and sat down again, this time with a book in his own hands. It was a red leather bound journal- nearly identical to the one Jack held in his hands. Teague looked at the book for a long moment before he met his son's eyes- his own dark and stern.

"This was 'er first book, a journal of sorts. She wrote in it, drew in it and kept things dear to 'er within its pages. It's yours if you want it Jackie- but don't open it here." Teague handed the book to Jack, who shut the sketch book and set it on the table between them and ran his hand over the cover and letters _A. C. S_ beautifully written, set in gold into the leather. Jack looked up at Teague who was watching him.

" 'er name. Arabelle Catherine Sparrow." He explained, knowing what he wanted to ask but didn't. Jack nodded and laid his hand over the cover, watching his father.

"Where did you meet her? I mean _truly_, not that story you used to tell me so I'd stop talking." Jack asked gently. "Where did you first see her?"

Teague smirked to himself, counted the flickers of the candle and looked at his son.

"Did you always know 'er?" Jack asked

"Your mother was no pirate- she was far from it." Teague replied finally. "Though she was no roughen she sure had a spirit of one."

Teague shook his head with a tender smile. Jack smirked at his father- it had been a long time since he had seen him smile like this and he rather enjoyed it. Teague looked up and found Jack smiling, which made him snort.

"You want to know how I met you're mother?" he asked and Jack gave him a firm stare- which made Teague hold back a grin.

_Perhaps it was time for Jack to know the true story, he wasn't a child anymore, besides maybe it would start him thinking about how he needed to find a girl to stay with, he wasn't getting any younger and he had charm enough. He needed someone to look after 'im, even if he didn't think so. A woman steady in his life might even _save _his life._

So Teague gave his son a nod and picked up his glass.

"Arabelle Sparrow."

* * *

: Hey guys, I just wanted to set the mood in this first chapter. The next one goes into the story, the past, so you needn't worry.

How did you like the little musical intermission by Jack? Didn't know he could play could you? I borrowed that from the one who created him- many people don't know Johnny is amazing on guitar either.


	2. The Story Begins

:Morning guys.

There won't be much from me today, I'm very busy with work. Enjoy the first chapter!

l'il pirate

* * *

Captain Edward Teague, known as Teague to all his friends and acquaintances, was a well-favoured man of thirty six. He was a prospective Captain in the West Indies, but being considered prospective in this locale only meant one thing. Pirate. Captain of the Ash Bough, Teague sailed the southern reaches of the Indian Ocean and the Mozambique channel primarily, but was known to take little jaunts throughout any sea or water way that took his fancy. But those days of thoughtless adventure throughout the entire world seemed behind him. He stayed now, primarily in the vicinity of Madagascar. Teague had been everywhere that had once appealed to him, done many things, but still seemed unsatisfied to call it a life.

Edward Teague sat in a modest wooden chair at a large heavy desk. There was a thick book before him, attached to his desk, but he was not reading, he was _not _writing, he was staring aimlessly into the crackling orange flames of the lantern sitting before him, on the desks corner. There was a bottle of rum on the other corner of his desk and the glass beside it was full but untouched.

Nevertheless, he didn't touch it, and he sat motionless staring into the small flames until a knock at the door brought him back to the real world. Teague sat back and grunted a reply. The door opened and a cool gust of air shot into the cabin, causing the candles to flicker momentarily before the door shut again cutting off the dark and rainy world outside.

"Captain Teague." A young man emerged from the shadows at the door, drenched in cold rain; the water streaming off of his face and down the neck of his coat- matting his hair to his head even under his hat. The man wiped his face, and cleared the water from his eyes.

"Captain we're nearing port but the squall's not dyin'. We can't dock till she clears up. Tis far too dangerous."

Teague dropped his eyes onto the lad, early in years and service with the crew. Any other crewmen knew Teague didn't care much for pointed comments like this. All he had to do was look out the window- he was a seasoned sailor, he knew bad weather and dangerous tides. Especially what they meant for a ship. But the boy was new, and although Teague wanted so badly to cut the boy for interrupting him with such stupid precautions, he leaned back over his desk, not even looking at the lad as he spoke.

"Understood, Mr. Andrews, but next time take this up with the crewman in charge on deck. I've got a lot of things to do and don't appreciate being concerned with such things that can be simply taken care of by another man."

The young Mr. Andrews lowered his eyes timidly. "Yes sir, sorry Captain."

"This is your second true voyage, am I right?"

Andrews nodded, still hesitant to meet his captain's eyes.

"To be on a ship you must learn quickly," Teague said sternly, only releasing a tiny bit of his anger. He waved him away curtly. "Back to your post, sailor and leave me be in the future."

"Aye aye, Captain." The man nodded and quickly made his retreat.

Teague sat back and sighed as the man shut the door behind him. Teague's patience was tried with such young sailors- he quite hated them on a whole, but he sometimes was made _charitable _by a friend's request. And although Teague hated taking new ones on, it was a process that had a slim chance of ending soon, if at all.

Teague cast a glance over the book sitting on the desk. Its pages were soiled, old and the ink failed and smeared in certain spots, but it was a book useful to any captain yet Teague found his ledger a trivial and droll job. Despite his thoughts on the matter, again he bent over the book and looked down the neat columns of numbers. Many thought Teague very queer to keep a ledger- being a pirate and very lawless and not concerned with numbers or letters for that matter.

Many men Teague knew thought that pirates and men such as themselves had little use for numbers and logs-many were even illiterate- but Teague disagreed. This way he was sure he could keep his ships properly maintained and make sure the wealth of plunders was properly distributed between the crew. This way there was no use for disagreements over pay, for Teague had everything written down and locked away safely.

Again however, Teague's eyes wandered, this time over the entire sheet of creamery parchment. He sighed. He looked over the names, the ones that had been crossed out, the new ones added, and the brief notes added to each one. Several names had been crossed out and marked as deceased, a few more marked as casualties, the odd one disbarred but most marked loyal, trustworthy and or diligent. Teague turned away from the names and totalled up the last figures, closed the book and retrieved his glass of rum. Sitting back in his chair once again, Teague cradled the glass within his hands as he lifted his feet and dropped them onto the desk, a safe distance from the maps and paper's strewn across it.

Teague could hear the yells from drenched sailors outside, but they were hard to hear over the wind as it whipped at the huge canvass sails and crashed the waves against the hull. This was only a small squall, They had run into far worse before, but this one was hindering their voyage and Teague didn't like wasting time.

They had run into it just before sunset. A strong southwest wind came up on them suddenly as they neared the east coast of South Africa-it made them drop anchor a safe distance from shore and forced them to wait it out. They needed to dock in Port Alfred for a few repairs and supplies before they were on their way again. They were heading back home, and if they got the timing right- by Teague's calculations- they would be right on time to meet up with the trade ships on their way to and from England to the Philippines.

The trade routes had opened up just weeks ago, but Teague knew from experience that the first shipments weren't worth the trouble of tracking and storming. By the time Teague had the Ash Bough out to Ile Amsterdam the shipments would be in their favor both in quantity and quality. Teague grinned. He was eager to get back to his waters again, as it had been far too long since he had tracked and taken a ship himself for mere pleasure with the gains of choice. Teague closed his eyes quite happy to open them and find himself back along the shores of Madagascar but his skepticism was noted.

_Why did it always take so long to get home?_

* * *

It was a cold dreary day in England as a young woman, dressed all in chilling blues, with dark chestnut hair, stood before a drab filthy window as it collected rain drops greedily. The woman sighed, for it was a miserable day yet again. She trailed her finger across the window pane and groaned. How she hated this place. All this dreary weather, clouds and cold wind. She could not remember a day she had spent here when she had seen a bright sun from sun up until sunrise. It always seemed to be hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds and filthy raindrops.

She longed to be home so ardently. She had been born and raised far away from here, but before her family's death she had been sent here for schooling- to become a proper lady and not the tomboy her brothers had worked so hard to mold her into. That had been three years ago. She had been forced to stay here, at the school for Fine Young Ladies until the legal work had been arranged and set in order, including finding a proper guardian for her. However, a guardian was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Right now she wanted to be rid of clouds and musty town air and be back out on the ocean ridge of her home on the western shores of New Zealand, breathing the warm sunlight into her cold lungs and swimming in the ocean tides.

She hated England and everything about its prim proper attitudes. She longed to kick off her shoes and run through a field of long grass or float through the water without a care of who saw her as she had always done as a child. Now, she was practically watched as she took a bath in fear she might drown. Arabelle hated this life.

Without warning the creaky door of her room opened with a great whoosh. Arabelle flinched her head around to catch a glimpse of her interrupter, but she only turned back to the window as the door shut, leaving a young woman with beautiful blond curls standing before it.

"Well well, here you are- my poor little worry wart," the woman smiled cheekily.

Arabelle gave the woman a tight sarcastic smile and turned away as the woman headed for her bed, and threw herself down upon it far more dramatically than practically.

"What is troubling you today when you have every reason to be joyous and triumphant?"

"That is saying a lot when I have been waiting three years for this day to come," Arabelle grumbled. "I am pleased but I am not happy with the arrangements."

"Arrangements- oh you mean the clause about securing you a guardian?"

As if she had struck a nerve Arabelle spun around and commenced hissing- trying to control such anger that could easily have been expressed physically, resulting in the destruction of her entire room.

"A guardian, what hogwash! I am a reasonable, able woman of nineteen! What use do I have for a guardian?! Many women younger than I am are married with children by now. Surely they do not think that I am incapable of taking care of myself?"

"That's it, Belle- get married. They cannot trouble you then."

As soon as the woman had spoke_n_ she bit her tongue, and shrivelled back as the storm struck. She had been too careless with her words- she knew Arabelle's strong views on such things as marriage.

"Marriage!? Miss Hughes- if you are going to talk like that, get out of my room right now!" She exclaimed. She received a hard knock on her wall, which made the young woman bite her lip and caused Arabelle to fume.

"Arabelle- we're trying to study!" Came a gentle whine from within the wall.

Arabelle stepped over to it and called even louder. "Than study Rebecca! If you don't like me yelling come a drag Phoebe away- please!"

"Belle- come now. I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry, but it is an option- although I could have worded it better."

"How can you word _marriage _any different?" Arabelle hissed, and Phoebe gave her a determined look.

"You know me Belle- I will find a way if it would prove you wrong."

Arabelle pursed her lips and turned away haughtily. "If you have come to degrade my mood you have wasted your time, Phoebe- you can leave now, for I am perfectly settled at the bottom of unhappy."

Phoebe smiled sadly and stood up. Walking over to her friend silently she put her arm around her and rested her head on her shoulder without any fear. It was like walking into a lions den unprotected, but Phoebe had tamed the lion before and could do it again.

"You know I am only trying to make you smile don't you, Belle? I knew you would be uncertain right now, and I have come all the way to see if you wanted an ear to pour your heart out to."

"All the way? Phoebe, your room is at the end of the hall."

"Aye, and it is a very long hallway on such days." She smiled cheekily again and blew at Arabelle's ear. Arabelle waved her away, pushing herself out of her friends, arms she faced her sternly.

"Truly I am fine, Pheb, I don't need to talk, I just-"

"Belle, you say that every time and then weeks go by with you in a sour mood until finally something happens. Either you scold someone you shouldn't, or you end up getting dismissed from class because you humiliated our teacher. Then I come back once again and nearly beg on my hands and knees to tell me what is wrong- please can we skip the weeks of inner torture just this one last time and you just tell me outright what is bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Blast!" Phoebe thrust her hand onto her hips and glared at Arabelle "We were this close! Please, would you just tell me what is the soggen problem?!"

"You know yelling will only make me resist harder Pheb. Don't even try."

"Well, what can I do then? I tried holding you down last time and only received a large bruise on my thigh for my attempts. You know it is still there. Would I be able to plea truce- a relapse of memory- for an explanation of your feelings today?"

Arabelle scowled. "That was not my fault- you tripped."

"And how did I trip? Do you remember because I cannot recall..." Phoebe's eyes narrowed and Arabelle bit her lip- her eyes evading her friends.

"Arabelle Sparrow?"

"Okay! Yes, I tripped you- but it is your own fault-"

"_My fault_? How do you discern that you grasping my ankle as I dashed over your bed my fault?"

"Precisely! What exactly were you doing running over my bed?"

"Running away from you! What do you expect- that I just enjoy taking little pleasure leaps across rooms?"

"You seem to whenever there is any handsome gentleman talking to anyone but you," Arabelle retorted, and Phoebe's jaw dropped, but then her eyes shined and she closed her mouth into a perfect beautiful smile.

"That is true."

Arabelle rolled her eyes and turned away.

"So are you going to tell me or not?" Phoebe inquired

"Do I have any choice what so ever?"

"No, you are being led at gun point," Phoebe teased.

Arabelle sat on her window seat and looked out at the drab world. "There is nothing more rewarding on such a day as your friend leading you willfully to the gallows for the simple pleasure of watching you hang."

Phoebe scoffed. "That bad? Well, if I would have known you were contemplating on visiting the gallows I would have worn my good dress."

Arabelle gave her a curt mocking smile and tapped the window pane.

"Belle love, just let it out, you will feel so much better." Phoebe's voice came gently flowing through the room as she leaned against the footboard of Arabelle's bed.

Arabelle faced her without emotion. "You know me too well to pester me, Pheb- I don't gossip and let my emotions all fall out on cue."

Phoebe sighed. "I know but I am perfectly content to sit here until you find the plug and struggle with it."

Arabelle sighed. "I appreciate your patience, Pheb but I think I would rather just sit alone for a while. I have a great many things to do."

Phoebe stood slowly and replied with a motherly tone that was far from her own. "Yes, I suppose that is true but you are not leaving yet, Arabelle dear."

"Unfortunately."

Phoebe stood at the door, her hand resting on the door handle, she cocked her head to the side.

"Do you want some help, either going though your things or sailing down the river of self examination or self pity? You know I can be very helpful in either respects."

"Go away, Phoebe," Arabelle grumbled and Phoebe gave her a testy smile.

"Fine- as your majesty wishes." She opened the door and closed it firmly behind her, but only after thrusting her tongue out at her friend.

Arabelle bit her lip as she turned back to her window. Tapping the window sill she turned and looked down and ran her ran over the leather bound journal beside her; a book filled with many memories she had sketched onto its creamery pages. Arabelle closed her eyes- oh, how she wished she could go home.

* * *

A week after she had stood at her grungy window in Cardiff, it seemed like Arabelle's dream had finally come true. Arabelle was going home. She was finally able to return to her beautiful home by the sea. She had just secured the little money her parents had left behind and she was using it all to go home. After which she had no idea what she would do but she just needed to get out of England before her fabulous quick mind caught up. She knew only then she would think of a brilliant plan out of her present predicament.

Arabelle walked quietly beside Mrs. Radford, her chaperone for her journey and a mistress from the school. She and her husband were going to visit some friends in New Holland. And having their freinds so close to Arabelle's home had miraculously availed them to accompany her a good portion of the journey. Mr. Radford, an English lawyer, walked ahead of the two women, smartly dressed and perpetually business like.

Mrs. Taylor had forced such an arrangement upon Arabelle primarily because of Mr. Radford's respectability and smart mind accompanied with his wife's smart eye for mannerism and conduct. Arabelle felt a hollow victory upon receiving the news of her journey's arrangements- the truth was staring her in the face. Mrs. Taylor wanted her watched. She didn't trust Arabelle and even though she was going to be out of her reach, the very strict woman would still have her fangs lodged in Arabelle's flesh.

Arabelle felt betrayed by this act, but she was forced to consent without a scene. At least there was someone on board she remotely knew, although they were the last ones Arabelle would have wanted to spend more time than necessary with. It gave her a minimal amount of comfort although for she was a very private person, twisted by her loss of her entire family and lack of friends.

Arabelle was very opinionated and strong willed- many people found her argumentative and brash, but Phoebe Hughes was the only other woman she had ever met that could equally challenge her to a verbal duel. Phoebe was an expert at holding her ground against anyone- her spirit matched Arabelle's almost perfectly. The only thing that was different was Phoebe's adoration for any wealthy or handsome dubbed male.

Arabelle, after watching her family fall apart was scarred, and she hated the thought of marriage, of belonging to anyone who could hurt you, dominate you and destroy you. Mrs. Taylor had tried in earnest to introduce her to a wide selection of young men, but Arabelle disregarded filtrations of any kind, sweet comments she replaced with scorn. She even on various occasions accused men outright of horrible things.

However, now Arabelle's worry was replaced with fascination to be finally released of that small town's borders she had lived in for the last three years. She looked around her inquisitively as they crossed the plank walk way from the carriage to their waiting ship.

Arabelle smiled at those she passed, waving at small grimy children who showed her interest and gave greetings to the women she met or came close to along the harbor's edge. Everything was so busy down here, she loved it. The general spirit of the work, the happy faces and just the freedom of these people. Arabelle had always observed that the poorest people were the happiest and only the personification of such a truth was right before her on the docks.

As Arabelle continued to look around like an eager young child in a general store full of pretty things, Mrs. Radford hissed at her to keep her head down and her eyes on her feet. Arabelle shot the overbearing woman an annoyed look in reply as soon as she looked away, and boldly continued to act as she had before the scolding. Arabelle didn't even glance down- she wouldn't. She continued to soak in the sights, the skyline and the look of England- she would never come back to such a dirty place, but it _was _beautiful at times. Arabelle smiled as she thought it was the most beautiful now- only because she knew she would never come back.

Mr. Radford ushered the two ladies up the ramp and consulted with the captain, who was standing on the deck greeting all the passengers as they arrived on board. He looked like a kind man, a little rough, with a great big red beard, but he had kind blue eyes. He nodded to Arabelle and Mrs. Radford, after Mr. Radford acknowledged the two women, but couldn't help but watch Arabelle with a smile as she surveyed the ship intently, watching keenly as the men hurried about their work and assisted passengers find their cabins.

"A 1730 British Galleon, pride of the Queen's trade vessels. Tell me, Captain, when did such a beautiful trade ship become a passenger vessel? And why deprive the merchants of such?"

Arabelle didn't even bother hold back a unlady-like smile when the captain chucked and looked down at her with surprised eyes. Mrs. Radford gave Arabelle a sour smile- meaning she was being polite to smile along with the captain but she wanted Arabelle to shut her mouth_- immediately_. Arabelle saw this and relished the opportunity to purposely vex the woman.

"It isn't a very comfortable ship to have such fine ladies on board- but then again ladies on ships are bad luck, aren't they, Captain." Arabelle turned to Mrs. Radford and saucily asked "Are you sure you want to brave such a journey, Mrs. Radford? We might run into trouble."

Mrs. Radford's face was bleak, and her eyes biting with venom, but the captain spoke up before she could lay into Arabelle.

"What's this now- a lass with the appearance of a fine lady but the spirit of a seaman?" He chuckled "Ye got a name, miss?"

"Arabelle Sparrow."

The captain's eyes shined at her confident tone. "Tell me, _Miss _Sparrow, where did ye learn so much about ships? It's hard for me to think that they be teaching ye such things were you come from."

"Where I come from, Captain, is full of ships and captains who tells such naval tales to anyone willing to listen. My brothers were all avid sailors and taught me well. I have travelled the India trade routes many times but always as an underfoot little girl. Honestly it has been far too long since I have been upon the sea. I may have the appearance of a proper fine young lady as you say, but you are right when you see through this disguise I so eagerly wish shed."

Again the captain laughed- proving he was a real jolly sort of man. His laugh rattled Arabelle's ears and caused a few sailors to turn and smile, trying to see what had caused their captain's laughter. Arabelle smiled at the captain and happily noted the fact that she seemed to have made a valuable friend quite easily.

"Very well noted Miss Sparrow, and I assume that I shall be seeing your shadow much on deck when there is such fun to be had. Perhaps you would even care to share some of your knowlege during our voyage."

"Gladly."

"Arabelle- I think we shall be too busy with our own matters, although you are very kind to offer, Captain." Mrs. Radford cut in sharply.

Arabelle grimaced and the Captain saw her discomfort.

"Whenever you are free then_,_ lass, just seek me out and we'll truly see how much of ships you know."

Arabelle gave him a grateful smile at his kind challenge. "Aye, sir."

Again the captain smiled and turned away, to awaiting passengers, leaving Arabelle to endure Mrs. Radford's wrath. But yet again Mrs. Radford was interrupted before she began. An eager young sailor arrived at Mr. Radford's side presently after being summoned. The man had blond wispy hair-tucked under his cap, dark blue eyes and a kind eager grin. He looked like a kindred spirit if Arabelle had ever seen one, then again she felt very kindred just being near the sea once again- it seemed to fuel her happiness and joy.

"We are in cabins 3 and 5," Mr. Radford explained and the man nodded, hoisting a heavy bag over his shoulder like it was a feather and grabbed the next in his free hand. He looked at Mr. Radford then and down to Mrs. Radford's bag but Mr Radford made it clear carrying the bags was beneath him. The man's shoulders sagged with a sigh as he hiked the bag over his shoulder with the next and reached for the last, but Arabelle intercepted his hand and picked up the bag without hindrance by it's heavy weight.

The man's mouth opened but it was Mrs. Radford's voice that was heard, she was a few steps ahead of them all and scowled over her shoulder.

"Miss Sparrow- put that bag down. The lad will carry it," she commanded, and Mr. Radford looked Arabelle up and down with displeasure and embarrassment for causing such a scene. Arabelle met the woman's eyes and settled the bag more comfortably on her shoulder.

"Mrs. Radford, look at the kind gentleman. He is carrying far too much already. If no one else will assist him_ I will_. It is no trouble at all."

"Trouble is hardly my concern young lady- it is your _image _that is. Put that bag down now!" She hissed quietly and elbowed Mr. Radford.

"Henry- take the bag from her."

Mr. Radford grumbled as Arabelle slid the bag off her shoulder and handed it to him, giving her a tempestuous glance he grabbed the bag. Arabelle watched as the man nearly dropped it- not expecting the weight to have been lifted so easily by a female. She bit her lip to hide her contempt and her mocking grin, but he turned away quickly before he even saw her struggles for he was more concerned with his own. Arabelle tossed her head to the side and straightened her dress, trying to ignore the gentleman's battle.

"Now..." she turned to the young sailor- who gave her a hidden smile.

"If you'll follow me ladies, _sir_, I'll show you ye're cabins."

"Thank you." Arabelle smiled with a nod and motioned for the man to walk ahead. Again he grinned and walked past Mrs. Radford, who scowled _again_, and disappeared down through the open hatch with Arabelle close behind. Mrs. Radford came next as she pressed her lips angrily together so tightly they were white and Mr. Radford was last of the group, struggling with the heavy bag he dragged his feet last.

The sailor showed Mr. And Mrs. Radford to the first cabin, which she went right in to inspect as Mr. Radford was deemed busy by lugging his wife's bag down the hall and into their cabin. The sailor next took Arabelle's bag around the corner of the corridor and set it down at the next door and opened it. Letting Arabelle in first, he carried her bag in and laid it on the bed, then turned to her- happily surveying her neat little cabin. He took off his hat and held it in his strong hands like a timid little boy.

"Captain says ye're to have your trunks carried down directly so if you'd find a spot to put it I'll get it for yeh."

"You are too kind...?"

"Laury," he replied, giving her a subtle nod.

Arabelle nodded gently but waited, and he must have sensed her silent question for he continued lightly.

"Lawrence Tallard... but I've been Laury ever since I can remember."

"Pleased to meet you, Laury." She smiled extending her hand, which he shook somewhat awkwardly- shaking a ladies' hand like it was a man's must have surprised him. "My name is Arabelle Sparrow."

He nodded "Pleased to meet yeh."

Arabelle turned and surveyed the cabin once again almost immediately, not wanting to make him wait.

"I think this is as good a spot as any," she finally concluded, looking at the wall which held the door meaningfully.

Laury nodded. "Aye."

Arabelle smiled up at him quickly. How she had longed to be back at sea. Even such simple talk from sailors made her heart leap with joy.

"I hope it is not too much trouble to ask for my trunk now, I assume there are many others needing assistance."

"Aye, but there's a lot of sailors." He gave her a smirked and stepped across the threshold. "I'll be back in a jiff."

Arabelle nodded and turned back to her room as the man disappeared.

She scoured her cabin quickly, looking at everything closely, checking for any hidden treasures or _displeasures_. She found the cabin quite simple; a small fold down desk, _tiny really_, against one wall, a bed, small shelf, and lantern. But lastly a small window- what joy.

Arabelle was admiring the small porthole and its view, when there was a knock behind her. Turning, she faced Laury with an expectant smile, but then looked to the other man on the other side of him. Arabelle didn't stall them however, for they were carrying her heavy trunk, and she called them in immediately and they placed the trunk exactly where she had wanted it. Only then did she have the chance to examine this other man quickly. He was a young man, seemingly younger however. He had brown hair and chilling blue eyes. He was several inches shorter than Laury, but he too removed his hat when she looked at him.

Immediately, as if she was just another one of the men working on deck, she gave him a smile and extended her hand to him.

"Hello, I'm Arabelle Sparrow." She shook his hand and he gave her a grin.

"Andrew, Andrew Sanders."

"Pleased to meet you Andrew. Thank you for helping Laurie with my trunk," she replied kindly and Andrew gave Laury a smile.

"No problem, miss."

"Ye like y'ere window?" Laury inquired offhand.

Arabelle looked back at it and smiled. "I do, very much."

"It's the only one in this group of cabins," he pointed out. "From your actions on deck I thought ye'd appreciate it more than ye're friends."

"Well, I am very appreciative, thank you." Arabelle smiled, although she was not surprised, she had seen such an action done before. Sailors usually always favored people who could adapt to change and their way of life- they didn't go out of their way for people they didn't like.

Laury nodded. "Captain wants all the passengers to know a few rules-"

"No lit lanterns after eight, no pets, no cavorting after dark. All passengers are to remain out of sailors' and captain's way at all times. And no, under any circumstances, tampering with ship property or equipment."

Laury looked a little taken back and Andrew grinned.

"I think she's been on a ship 'fore Laury," he smirked

"I have, quite a few times. I practically lived on them when I was young," Arabelle replied honestly, feeling quite at ease with the two sailors.

"Well then. I guess we'll leave you settle in then," Laury replied and stepped for the door after Andrew. "If there is nothing else that is?"

"No, thank you very much for your help. I hope Mrs. and Mr. Radford did not pester you too much. They can be quite dull."

Laury chuckled. "Nay, but thanks for the warning."

"My pleasure."

Laury smiled and the two men tipped their hats and left her door. Arabelle shut it quietly behind them and turned back to her room, hands on her hips. She had some work to do before she was ready to spend two months here. She raised an eyebrow and headed for her bed, the bag and its contents- ready for work.

* * *

:Just thought I'd include a little footnote for you guys, and whoever is interested. If not feel free to read on.

The Queen mentioned is Queen Anne (ruled from 1707- 1714)

Cardiff is a city on the southwest side of England nestled in a somewhat large inlet/bay.

New Holland is what we currently know as Australia (name such from aprox. 1600-1700)

Also, a little side note: I made a slight miscalculation with the time frame in the last chapter which I have fixed but it is 1709 presently, which would have made Jack (during PotC) being aproximatly fourty years old. Sorry about any confusion.


	3. Adjustments

:I don't know how people find stuff to write before and or after each chapter. It's what the third chapter and I'm lost already! Pathetic isn't it?

Anyway, this chapter is Teague in F major. We get to see a little bit more about his character as well as how he deals and reacts with the crew.

Welcome to Ash Bough me hearties!

l'il pirate

* * *

Teague, after leaving Port Alfred ,was in a fairly good mood by his standards. He let off yet another young sailor quite easily and ignored most of the crew as they bickered over their newly obtained trinkets, effects and or elaborate stories of past pleasantries.

Again Teague was preoccupied with the journey and its details but he found a good part of his time used up simply occupying the deck. He conversed with a few crewmen and kept a weather eye out for land while he kept an close eye on his crew. He knew they were all getting antsy to be getting home, for a few of them were quite faithful to their families, but others were eager to be rewarded with wealth immediately. From experience, Teague knew there would be the possibility of disagreements in the up coming days as they turned into weeks but because he was smart enough to notice such things other captains readily forgot or ignored, he saved himself the trouble and kept himself within sight most of the time.

The men knew Teague was not a man to be annoyed, he was very shifty in his moods and none wanted to catch him at his worst- for it would be fatal. There were enough men on board, that had been with Teague since the beginning, to spread a selection of tales and rumours about the Captain's anger and lack of compassion. No one doubted those tales for a moment, Teague himself even acknowledged most of the worst stories which made new crewmen shudder like they stood in a powder magazine with an arm full of torches.

This thought kept Teague out of worry, he knew the men would have to go very far to defy him- and if that was the case then they deserved to do the devils jig. He had no sympathy for betrayers and discontent men. He himself had gone through too many horrible things- hungry nights, days of fear, beatings, betrayals and abandonment's to care what excuse the men gave. They deserved nothing more than they gave. That was how Teague ran his ship, and everyone knew that.

Teague stood on the quarter deck with a spy glass in his hand. Behind him stood Gabriel Marshal, his first mate and trusted ally.

They had been sailing for several days now and with agreeable winds, that placed them just beyond Faux Cap- at the southern tip of Madagascar. Teague had decided that they would follow the lee tide, after docking at Fort Dauphin and dismissing a selection of the crew, and thus meet up with the India trade route later in the week. However they had just come upon a heavy fog rolling in and Teague was concerned about the safety of their course. He had spent the entire morning on deck as the fog surrounded them and now as the fog started to thin out he felt he could hand the ship over to Abe once again. Abe, however, seemed quite interested in their next few days plans.

"Won't we be 'eld when we dock at da fort?"

Teague turned to his first mate and gave him a fleeting smirk. Abe took the spy glass from his captain and cursed himself for being so daft- Teague always thought of everything.

"Not by nightfall."

"So what we're goin' to do is slip in by night, lower a long boat and the lads row ashore while we head back out ta sea?"

Teague gave him a short nod and turned back to the land looming on the close horizon.

"I suppose it would be a daft notion to inquire how we're suppose ta get along 'out the lads stayin' behind." Abe offered and he watched Teague's lips tighten into a smirk.

"Aye."

Abe nodded. "How many are we a'leavin' behind?"

"Six."

Abe shrugged "We'll get along, s'not that much."

"Nay, but ye're in charge of the landlubbers- I wash my hands of 'em." Teague turned away grumbling.

"The-?" Abe turned with him, Teague faced his first mate and raised his eyebrows. "Nay, you can't mean-"

"Either dismiss 'em or watch over 'em. I don't care- just keep 'em away from me." Teague replied in a low grumble.

"What about Firth? He's been content with it all-"

"Firth has family he's dedicated to, thus has been temporarily released from the crew. If you had family you'd be exempt too- but ye _don't_, so you're taken 'em. Any questions?" he answered tonelessly but with a look that made Abe second guess his answer.

Abe wiped his brow painfully.

"If this is for-"

Teague's eyes sparked but he replied sternly. "Decide now Mr. Marshal for it's you're last chance."

Abe looked around the deck and spotted at least two young sailors- practically helpless when trying to catch up with the elder and more sailors. He breathed a deep sigh and gave his captain a nod- he didn't much like being the guillotine for these men but he didn't like the inexperienced ones underfoot incessantly any more than Teague did.

"I'll talk to 'em."

"Good."

Abe watched as his captain turned away- heading for his cabin. Abe jogged after him, meeting up with him before they had reached the main mast, he still had questions.

"Captain, this is the main route all season. Half our plunder's found 'ere on normal years won't these lads suffer?"

Teague weighed the idea. They did have more to care for than the other men. Would they be able to handle the loss? They would have to. Then again it was their choice for wanting a family.

"Yeh're always been up on these developments- I was just.."

"A portion will be set aside for each man being left behind. Those accompanying us on the raids will have first choice, first selection as always. But a portion will be set aside. Granted each man mercifully aided by such provisions pay back in full."

Abe nodded, this was very generous on Teagues part, but he felt slightly betrayed.

"Won't the lads, doin' the raidin', feel a might ... _apathetic _to such 'o decision. Since the others received payment 'out doing the same work?"

Teague's cheek rose and fell as he grinded his teeth. Far too many details he had to dish out without planning and strategically thinking this all over. He wanted this to be of his benefit and not end up being daft and be swindled by his own crew.

"You wish to discuss the details Mr. Marshal?" Teague asked, facing Abe head on.

Abe was silent a moment but when he saw no anger in Teagues' eyes he knew his tone had misrepresented himself.

"Aye, if at all possible."

"Bring the rum."

Abe grinned, catching a grin from Teague as he turned he nodded.

"Aye aye, captain."

Finally a few questions would be answered.

It hardly took any time at all for Abe to return with rum. However he did need to dodge a sailor or two who watched the bottles pass a little bit too intently for Abe's liking. Although he made it to Teagues' cabin without so much as losing one, or even being delayed long.

Teague, occupying the captains' cabin, also occupied a meeting room of sorts. When plans needed to be discussed they wee talked over at the large desk and accompanying table in the captain's quarters. However the captains' actual quarters was not this room but joined by a hatch at the main doorway.

Teagues' actual quarters were quite small, holding only a cot, chair and small table, a shelf and lantern.

The larger cabin adjacent to his however was quite large, and it was here he spent most of his time. It was fitted with several shelves, a large desk and table, a few chairs, two trunks and the odd map and tapestry nailed to the walls across from the large rear window. The window loaming over the desk under it was surrounded by a ring of brown, gold and red glass but the window's clear panes were crusted with dust and dirt both inside and out which made visible observation of the sea outside nearly impossible.

Abe entered the room as Teague walked along the left hand wall, clearly looking for a book hidden in one of the shelves.

"We're runnin' low on spirits." Abe declared as he set the bottles onto the table with a muffled thud.

"We'll have more- those India merchant vessels all sail low."

Abe grinned as he sat himself down and uncorked his bottle as Teague returned from the shelves with a large olive green book in his hand.

"When we make port to sell our plunder I want these windows cleaned." Teague said motioning to the large window behind him as he sat on the other side of the desk. Abe furrowed his brow at the random order and swallowed his rum jerkily.

"Cleaned?" he coughed.

"Aye, cleaned. You got a problem with looking out a clean window?"

Abe licked his tooth and gave his captain a doubtful nod.

"Aye captain, I'll get yeh're window cleaned. Anythin' else? Laundry? Dustin'?"

Teague shot the man a chilling stare and Abe shut his mouth, dropping his smile immediately. Teague wasn't joking.

"Aye captain. The window 'll be clean."

"Good." Teague pushed the book aside and retrieved his bottle of rum as Abe took a swig of his own. "Now, you had questions- I don't suppose you've forgotten."

"Nay." Abe nodded settling his bottle to rest on his knee, he met Teague's guarded black eyes. "Yeh said we'd be savin' a touch 'o profit fur the lads stayin' 'ehind. Yeh think that's smart givin' the way the lads doin' the work might feel 'bout that?"

"The men staying behind to care for personal matters will be allotted profits _only if _necessarily needed. They will pay as the others do, if not with courage and strength but with profit. The men allotted the money will pay back, in full, all taken by the first profits they make- no exception." Teague replied tonelessly as if he had this planned for months apposed to a few short minutes. "All that sparkles ain't gold. There are no exceptions on board- if they can't pay a suitable measure of action will be taken- _when _that time comes."

"So yeh're just gonna tell the lads and pray they take it well?"

"They'll take it favourably if they are smart. There is no gain for the ones left behind. They must have suitable excuses 'fore they get one shilling- mark my words no one does such work or gain such profits for free."

"Aye, I've been 'ere for the past several years. I know- we deserve naught more than we give."

Teague nodded and pulled out a map from under the book to his left.

"Our course?"

Teague silently trailed his finger along the scratched marks and lines in the stained parchment until he found what he was looking for and tapped the paper.

"Twenty leagues north east with a strong following breeze should drop us just beyond Cap Andavaka. We'll be shadowing the inlet before the morn sun is born."

Abe followed the route with his eyes and nodded, sitting back with his rum.

"She gets a might shallow just beyond our current mark. If I'm not mistaken ships have run ashore close without being careful. It'll take us more time but it's safer pulling out to deeper water. Do we have enough?"

"She does get shallow but only fools shadow the shore- I don't think there are any on board that can direct the ship too close to shore do you?" Teague retorted with cool distain for such warnings. Abe gave him a nod and nursed the bottle of rum in his hand.

"We'll be fine without heading for deeper tides, just have men posted to look out for rocks before I take the helm."

"Rocks? Ease on the rum Teague. We've n'are come 'cross any rocks in these parts 'fore."

"True but it's been a dry season, which even the seas suffer. But mind my words Marshal the tides are shallow, not enough for us to hit a coral or sand bar but we will come across-"

"Rocks! Off the port bow!"

Abe flinched and looked at the door, cursing under his breath. Teague rolled his eyes with a ghosted grin and stood.

"Still think we won't see any rocks?"

Abe grumbled and headed out the door quickly as Teague grabbed his hat off the back of his chair and fitted it onto his head as he made his way to the door on the opposite side of the cabin.

Teague stepped through the doorway as he dropped his hand from the brim of his hat. Looking up he saw a huge shear wall of rock to the port side. If that wasn't enough the deck was a sight of pure pandemonium. The less experienced men were running around like fools, swearing and trying to save their ship and crew members.

Teague shook his head, walked behind Abe shouting orders at the ridiculous scene unfolding and lashing out at any man stupid enough to make a mistake within his view. After Teague had told him that the landsmen mistakes were on his head he had been quite snappish with them and very concerned with their actions- this time was no different. Teague ignored him and yelled his own orders overtop of Abe.

"Where the hell are yeh taking us? Look lively man- tighten those lines! Hall in the sails! Lower the main sail. Quickly man! Watch those lines John, there's too much on 'em."

Abe looked at him peevishly a moment and Teague returned the look with his own venom.

"Yeh want to be a captain earn it Marshal. Get those dogs in order or yeh'll be out on your arse with 'im."

A few of the men exchanged smirks as Abe, curtly, turned away and commenced to yelling again- full of insults for any man no matter who they were. The men chuckled for they knew him, those curses were for Teague, and they were empty. He was too much of a coward to challenge Teague, everyone was.

Teague ignored him though, all of them, he had more important things to do and he could do them with the small amount of sane crewmembers even amongst the young ones.

Teague leapt up the stairs to the spar-deck and grabbed the wheel from the pirate, who smartly stepped away as soon as Teague's hands grabbed for the wheel. He stood back and waited, ready to help when needed.

Teague turned the wheel to the right a little more before his eyes scanned the deck. The men either stood ready or hung about the railing looking out for more rocks and calling them out. Teague found most of them to be his right and able crew, for the youngsters were still running and yelling idiotically around the deck, and he was pleased but there was one man in particular he was looking for he didn't see.

Teague swore under his breath for being so daft and immediately looked up. And there he was, standing in the crowds nest scanning the cliffs beside them.

"Basile I need a look from the bow!" Teague called above the clamour of the pandemonium on deck. Basile was Teague's most avid lookout, and he was a trusted friend. It was Basile who Teague trusted with his ship and his life, which said a lot. There were not many Teague trusted, and even less he trusted with his life, too many times had he been disappointed.

" 'drid! Give me a stern lookout boy!" Basile, the great man in the crows nest shouted from the sails as if calling a bird from heaven.

Teague's eyes roved quickly throughout the ship for a reply but found only a abnormal movement of shadows in the sails and then without so much as a call for help a man leapt from the bow mast down it would seem to the deck. Teague, fearing it was a daft sailor being cocky and getting what he deserved turned his eyes to Basile again, who seemed to be doing nothing.  
"Basile! I'm still waiting for th-" Teague shouted but was cut short when the falling victim suddenly bypassed the deck, grabbing a line and heaved himself through the air over the railing and around the bow of this ship.

"Rocks close off the starboard side!" Came a voice from within the kayos and instead of questioning it Teague reacted quickly steering the ship out of danger. As he did Teague looked over the bow again, just catching sight of the same brash sailor who had swung by a moment ago climbing up the forward lines to the safety of the sails, but still called out the odd direction or object in their path.

In the mean time Basile relinquished his post to another a made his way to the Captain's side. By that time they seemed to be out of immediate danger, although there were still rocks surrounding them they were thinning out and most disappearing. However the walls of rock still worried Teague.

"Loose your voice Bas? You think you could handle this without your cap-" Teague questioned before Basile had even stopped at his side.

"I would have sent for you, but the fog that was hiding our position Sirrah." Basile, all tall and strong, replied like a humble child to the man not half his size.

Teague turned to the crew once again, ignoring the giant's gentle tone.

"Phillips haul in that line! I want another reading."

"Aye sir!" The man yelled his reply and set to work as Teague turned back to Basile.

"Yeh were busy, I had no right to interrupt business with nothing but some unfounded hunch."

"Aye but all your hunches prove true. Next time Bas." Teague cautioned with a grin about his words.

"Aye Sirrah."

"Now-" Teague raised his brow and Basile smirked crookedly, reading his Captain's face he shrugged.

"That Madrid is a queer one, that's for sure. I swear he was born up there."

Teague grunted at the scene his mind came up with. "That'd be a sight."

Basile laughed, a low rumbling chuckle. And Teague looked across the bow where Madrid, the young man who seemed more at home climbing and swinging through a ships' sails than walking on land, sat upon a top rib of the mast. Teague shook his head.

"Have Ben ready. Soon that dog is going to fall and when he does Ben'll set his right. He'll break his neck… that is if the deck don't."

Teague and Basile turned to see Abe standing at the top of the stairs, to their left, looking distant and annoyed.

Teague remained silent and only turned to survey the crew, now seemingly all working in unison, while Basile retorted to the moody first mate.

"Nay. The boy's like a bird, they n'are forget how to fly while in the sky… _do_ they Abe?"

Abe scoffed and walked away. "Aye, if'n any of us is a bird 'ol Madrid is 'im."

Teague still said nothing, but Basile was not as silent.

"What's with 'im? You lay in 'im again?"

"Me, nay-"

Basile rolled his eyes as his captain spoke, very unconvinced, and cross his arms over his chest.

"It's just his monthly course."

Basile sputtered out a hearty laugh and Teague gave him a nod.

"Avoid the bugger is yeh can Bas till it's over. I'll be in me cabin." He said handing the helm over to the pirate still waiting and left Basile chuckling as he descended the stairs casting wary glances to any idle man he met, who quickly headed off to find some work or hide.

Teague opened the door to his cabin and stopped upon the threshold. Slowly he turned and looked over his shoulder to the bow and grinned as the man he saw touched his hatless brow in a salute. Chuckling Teague turned to disappear into his shadowy cabin when a man several feet away caught his eye. He was smiling at Teague, looking downright pleased at his captain's smile and himself smiling like a complete gummy fool. Teague's smirk froze and grew sour. His eyes changed instantly to that stormy black which was liable to make anyone jump.

"What?"

The old pirate froze, and nearly dropping the mop he was leaning on, fumbled clumsily.

"Get to work!" Teague barked and the man scurried away, moping the deck around him ferociously as Teague snarled, turning back to his cabin and slammed the door closed behind him.


	4. A Change of Plans

: Look at that I found something to write!

I've been writing a lot with all the miserable days we've been having so this chapter is quite a bit ahead of schedule.

Lots of Arabelle in this chapter. I really hope she's no Mary-Sue. I've read great advice on Avoiding Sue forums- those who provided us with such great reminders and tips as well as Sirenofthestorm from the Official Fanfiction University of the Carribean for providing reminders with great humor and an amazing writing style combining past/fiction and present fangirls. Tks a bunch.

However the greatest thanks goes to Rossio and Elliot for writing such a great story we can explore and expand.

Pirates of the Carribean belongs to Disney, but I prefer to call this story mine entirely.

* * *

Arabelle's first weeks on the ship passed quickly. Most of her time was monopolized by Mrs. Radford but soon enough even she grew tired of walking along the small deck and succumbed to sea sickness as Mr. Radford and a great deal of the other passengers did. Arabelle, thanks to growing up near and on ships, was immune and spent her free time in the fresh air of the deck and talking with various passengers and the odd sailor.

Although Arabelle was glad to be rid of her chaperone's attention and harsh reminders or scolding, she actually missed the woman. Arabelle cursed herself for even thinking such things but in some respects it was true. At least with Mrs. Radford always talking, judging and scolding Arabelle was preoccupied, and not focused on herself and her sudden change of mind. Besides Arabelle was able to do nothing but pleasantly roam the ship, if she stayed out of the sailors' way, and talk like the other ladies on board. Sadly Arabelle was not like the other ladies on board. They flirted with sailors or other passengers and talked of nothing but fashion, rumors, men and marriage.

Arabelle had actually begun to regret taking this voyage. _What had she been thinking? She had no right, nor purpose of being on this ship_. It had taken her a few days here before her excitement wore off and her mind began to grasp for some sense. Sadly there was none. Arabelle had bee rash and not thought of the consequences of her actions. She truthfully had no idea what she was doing. And for the second time, third time in her adult life, she was scared.

All she had wanted to do was go home. She had thought about that dream every day since she left and even more so after the news of her family's death reached her but she did not realize the reality. She shouldn't have gotten on this ship. She was now heading for a place that she did not know anymore. It was not her home. Her home had always been where her parents, her family had been, but now they were dead and any sense of home had gone with them. She didn't have any other family she could go to.

Her father had left his home at a very young age. She didn't even know her grandparents' names. Her mother had been an only child of a peasant family, and her parents had died before Arabelle had been born. Her brothers had no family to call their own, and lacking in friends or even neighbors Arabelle found herself scraping the bottom of society's barrel. Even her childhood home had been sold to the highest bidder, and her brother's ships had been sunk in the accident or sold with his business afterward.

Arabelle had no purpose waiting for her in New Zealand. She had no family, no support. What was she going to do now that she was headed back?

'_Phoebe should be here not I. Flirting with sailors and sailing off into the great unknown full of adventure, she is more cut out for this life than I. I only wanted to be rid of England. I hadn't considered about what would happen after that._' Arabelle mused one bright, and free, afternoon feeling quite alone on the deck. _'I shouldn't have left.'_

"I have even forgotten what it's like on a ship." Arabelle grasped the railing under her thin palms with a sudden pitch of the ship amongst the waves. "Daniel would be ashamed."

"I wouldn't be so hard on yourself Miss. I thought you were doing quite well compared to a lot of others on board."

Arabelle looked up suddenly, grasping the railing tightly as she faced a man off to her right.

He was dressed well, which meant one thing- gentleman- and he looked to be in his mid twenties, light brown hair and light eyes. He was clean shaven and seemingly quite immune to the ships bobs and rocks as she was. He held his top hat in his hand and bowed to Arabelle, but when he stood erect he received no bow from her only a look of offence.

"Forgive me but now, although I have interrupted your thoughts, seemed the only time I could be introduced. You seem to have quite a few persons fighting for your attention." He explained with a regal air and the slightest smug smile, which although seemed the kind of smile which sent all women flocking to his presence did nothing but annoy Arabelle.

"I am Jonathan Bishop."

"I apologize sir. I had not realized I had spoken aloud. I am sorry if I have disturbed you." Arabelle replied and looked back to the sea, making it clear their conversation was over.

Mr. Bishop smiled and stepped forward. Arabelle's jaw tightened as she felt his presence continue.

"Would you mind if I asked for your name… miss?" He inquired with a honey coated tone.

Arabelle's shoulders sagged a bit as she rolled her eyes, out of his view.

'_Can't he take a hint?' _Her mind grumbled but she remained, otherwise, silent.

The man smiled again, and took the liberty of looking Arabelle up and down, as she did not look at him. Quite pleased, he disregarded her coldness and pressed on with his questions.

"So as I hear you have been on ships before."

Arabelle turned and faced him sternly. "Who told you such things?"

"Why, you did."

Arabelle scowled and gripped the railing tightly.

"I did no such thing."

"Don't you remember Miss, in the conversation I so rudely interrupted you mentioned how you have forgotten your time on ships and you mentioned a man being ashamed of you? Would that by any chance be your husband you referred to?"

"I don't have a husband." Arabelle snapped and Mr. Bishop smiled.

"Which I am quite pleased for."

Arabelle once again turned and glared at him, pushing a few strands of chocolate wind tousled locks from her forehead.

"And that reason would be what sir? To make fun of yet another women without a husband like all men seem to do? To give her reason to be shunned by any good and proper society? To cause even more undo pain upon a innocent young woman? To cause her to be looked down upon to been seen with-"

"Tsk tsk tsk. You misunderstand me miss. I was just curious as to why such a beautiful young woman such as yourself would be sadly so ... ehm… unattached- as it were." Mr. Bishop waved a finger at her and gave her a pleasant smile.

"Perhaps I have no desire to be married."

"I find that hard to believe. All young women- realize it or not- desire to be married." He retorted

"Perhaps I _have_ been and by such a conversation you have caused pain to a young widow. What have you to say to that?"

"I envy the poor soul you lost."

Arabelle stared at Mr. Bishop for a long cold moment before her lips curled into a beautiful gentle smile and she turned away- acting, surprisingly, very shy. Mr. Bishop smiled and gave her a look on innocence.

"Ah, there it is. I was wondering when I would catch the angel's smile. Now, I believe I have owing to me a name."

Arabelle turned away from the ocean and smiled at him.

"Yes and I apologize I did not give it before…" Arabelle then suddenly dropped her smile and scowled at him. "… but the name you deserve I fear would offend the present company and put the surrounding sailors to shame."

Mr. Bishop's jaw grew slack and Arabelle triumphantly gave him a saucy nod of the head.

"Good day sir."

And with that Arabelle turned away and left Mr. Bishop watching her disappear below deck with a rejected look on his face. But like a true man, used to such rejection, Mr. Bishop straightened his collar and cleared his throat acting, by far, not the one at fault. Then spun around on his heel, leaving the couple close by (that Arabelle had mentioned) scowling at him as he made his way for his party across the deck. However, in his hasty retreat he, unintentionally, brushed the shoulder, quite hard, of a sailor standing close by.

"Beg your pardon." He apologized as he hardly even looked the man in the eye as he quickly was on his way again to his friends.

The sailor said nothing, he only turned and watched Bishop walk away. Frowning the sailor's fists clenched temptingly, but he turned away. Laury headed below the deck, listening to his better judgment.

Laury moved rather quickly through the tiny corridors, past passengers and brash sailors chatting up young single women. He felt like he was in an inn of ill repute and scowled at the way the men were acting when there was work to be done. But being a simple landsman he had no say in such matters and pressed on. However when Laury had passed such things and stopped around the corner of the corridor only to look up and find himself standing at Arabelle's cabin door.

_What was he doing here? Correction, _why_ did he come here? What did he possibly think to accomplish? _

Wondering this Laury stood there idly for a few moments, stupidly staring at the closed door.

"Laury?"

Laury looked up and found Arabelle walking toward him.

"Miss Sparrow. I wasn't expecting to see you down here."

Arabelle smiled, stopping on the other side of the doorway.

"Is that so?"

"Aye."

"Huh. Were you looking for me?"

"Nay, why would I be looking for you?"

Arabelle smiled at his choice of denial and nodded at the door.

"I was only wondering because you are standing _here_… in front of _my_ door… staring at it quite intently."

"I…" Laury stepped back and looked around innocently as if wrongly accused of murder, which was quite entertaining for Arabelle.

"Is this _your_ cabin? Oh yes, you're right. I'm quite sorry Miss Sparrow. I was looking for Mr. Thompson- by the captain's order." He quickly replied

"Are you sure?" Arabelle asked, her eyes narrowing quite beautifully.

This made Laury even more awkward and slow to respond, being distracted by such beauty, although he tried to hide it.

"Aye. I'm quite sure." He stammered.

"Hm. In that case I would try the deck. Mr. Thompson was there talking to the captain not five minutes past and they seemed they would be there some time."

Laury opened his mouth and shut it quickly, unable to respond intelligently. Arabelle smiled at his inability to respond and gave him a kind look of surrender.

"With three brothers you will learn that I am very quick. They made it their aim to teach me well."

Laury couldn't help but smile.

"They succeeded well indeed."

Arabelle returned his smile and clasped her hands behind her back.

"Now what can I do for you?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." Laury replied quickly.

"Are you sure?" Arabelle asked once more her eyes narrowing gorgeously as she questioned him.

"Quite sure. Are you enjoying the voyage?" he asked, quite hoping to redirect the subject.

Arabelle looked suspicious but gave him a smile and flat out lied.

"I am enjoying it immensely. I could not be more happy."

"Glad to hear it." Laury nodded, not suspecting a thing, which was followed by a cool moment of silence as Arabelle watched Laury suspiciously and Laury looked anywhere but at her. But soon enough Laury, having enough, cleared his throat and finally spoke once again.

"Well." he said sticking his hands in his pockets. "I best get dock back to work there's much deck to be had…uh I mean..."

Arabelle smiled cheerfully. "That is quite a mouthful."

Laury cracked his knuckles and stammered once more. "What I meant to say was, there is much work to be had before we dock. I must get back to the deck…. No _on_ deck…"

"Dock? We're docking now?"

"Aye."

"Where? I thought we were going right across the ocean."

"Nay, not yet. There are still a few days before we reach the Indian ocean, and even then we will be stopping half way to dock for provisions and repairs if needed. But we will be docking at Cape Town 'fore the afternoon's out."

Arabelle nodded, her mind clicking and churning with crazy idiotic thoughts.

"But I really must get back to work. Afternoon Miss Sparrow." Laury nodded tipping his hat to her, as he always did.

"Laury." Arabelle nodded, her mind drifting, as she entered her cabin and Laury disappeared down the hall and out of sight.

* * *

Arabelle awoke the next morning to find her cot moving. Groggily she opened her sleepy eyes thinking she was still dreaming and looked down. Her cot wasn't moving. Nothing in her room was moving, nothing but the lantern- swaying back and forth on its hook. Arabelle smiled fleetingly, she must have been dreaming and she was quite reluctant to leave the warmth of her cot. She closed her eyes with a smile on her face.

Abruptly Arabelle's eyes flew open. Her mouth opened and she threw the covers off the bed and jumped to her feet, all before she could make a sound. Scrambling across her room and barely missing the desk leg she grasped the copper window sill and her jaw dropped. She was greeted by nothing but cool blue waves.

"No!" She cried. "No no no!"

Tearing off her nightgown, Arabelle grabbed her dress laying on the floor, where she had cast it last night and threw it on with a great deal of struggling, fumbling and cursing as she stubbed her toe on the trunk by her door. But finally the dress was on and Arabelle threw her door open and ran down the empty corridor toward the stairs as fast as her skirts would allow her, as she still fumbled with straightening her tight sleeves.

Even before she reached the stairs she could smell the salty air, and missed the sound of seagulls and albatrosses, her heart sank. Arabelle grabbed her skirts and ran up the stairs, stopping dead at the top and staring out at the huge ocean before her. In a slow deading motion Arabelle's hands fell to her sides and she released her skirts, allowing them to fall back into place by themselves.

There was no land in sight.

Arabelle's legs grew weak and she attempted to fall to the deck right then but suddenly she pulled herself upright with one thought in mind... she felt ill. Turning to go to the railing, without a moment's consideration, she was ready to pitch the contents of her stomach into the sea below. But before Arabelle had taken even two steps to the right she was stopped by a hearty call was directed to her.

"There's me sailin' lass! Yeh're up earning this morn, and it's a grand privilege to see you amongst the likes of me ghastly crew."

Arabelle turned to see Captain Thuron descending the stairs toward her, with a hearty grin on his bright face. Arabelle swallowed her wish to dry heave and gave the captain a sickly smile.

"Am I up that early? I hadn't noticed the time." Arabelle replied quietly diverting her attention to a coil of ropes a few feet away that had just become very interesting.

"Aye, it's not past six thirty. I was under the notion that you rich folks slept till all hours of the day. And I haven't ever seen you about the ship till after nine, ye're early."

Arabelle nodded. And the captain's eyes narrowed as they looked her over.

"You ill Miss Sparrow? You look a might sickly."

"To tell the truth sir, I do not feel the best this morning. I think I had a bad dream." She offered looking at him briefly before turning her attention back to the faded deck. This was far from the truth but seemed to satisfy him very well.

"Bad dreams or not yeh should return to your cabin and rest Miss. Yeh'll be feeling' better in no time at all."

Arabelle nodded. "I agree but I think what I need is air. I do not mean to be impolite Captain but with everyone below deck succumbed to sea sickness the air seems a bit… foul."

"A _bit_ foul?" The captain laughed and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Yeh're too polite with yeh're words miss. I thank the good Lord every day that I don't have to go anywhere 'low deck. The worst thing it is, having sick'ins aboard and below deck on me beautiful ship. Can't wait till we get the lot of yeh off me ship… uh… besides you that is lass."

Arabelle gave him an appreciative smile and met his bright blue eyes. "I understand captain. I myself am eager to dock."

Thuron smiled once again and gave her a nod.

"I was under the impression that we were docking last night for some time."

"In Cape Town? Nay. I wouldn't stay there too long if it meant a shipload of gold. It's a dangerous place that Africa, none of the trade routes stay there long enough to fully stock up. We just get what we need and get out." Captain Thuron replied seriously with grey eyes and the laughter gone from his voice.

"Oh."

Thuron smiled. "Now don't be getting' sad Miss Sparrow, yeh'll have time to visit port and walk about when we dock at Ile Amsterdam. We'll be there in a week or so with fair winds, give or take a few days."

"Ile Amsterdam?" Arabelle asked, her interest perked and her weak frustration flagging at the new information.

"Aye. She's a small island near the middle of the Indian. It's not grand but it's land and much safer than Africa. There's where ye'll be safe to walk about and see the sights. We'll dock there for a day or so and then make our way to New Holland."

"So it's the next and last stop then?' Arabelle inquired, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Our last? Nay. But it's the only place respectable merchant ships can dock safely. After the Ills we dock at New Holland, as I said, and then we dock at New Zealand- that our last port we make with passengers."

Arabelle nodded as she looked over the deck and to the ocean before them. Once again her mind began to wander. Captain Thuron was called away and he gave Arabelle a kind smile.

"Take in all the air yeh can handle before the others awake Miss Sparrow, the crew will be changing in an hour's time and things will get a might busier. I'll be at the helm if you need anything."

"Thank you captain but I am quite alright just watching the horizon."

Thuron smiled and turned away muttering something about her having the sea in her blood, Arabelle smiled gently as she turned away and sauntered to the railing.

Maybe things weren't working out so badly after all. After what Captain Thuron had said about Africa, Arabelle was glad she had not carried her plan through, but then again sailors were prone to exaggerations and being very superstitious. Nevertheless this just meant Arabelle had more time to plan, more carefully, when and how she would slip away.

Last night she had packed a small bag of her most valuable and practical things and left it by her door. She had planned to slip away during the night, disappearing into the town as all lay a-sleeping but when Arabelle laid down to rest before her escape she had fallen into a deep sleep and not awaken until morning when they were far away from _any_ land.

Arabelle feared that she wouldn't be able to, run away and she was scared to think she might be forced to stay on her voyage to New Zealand and arrive alone. Although Arabelle was a strong independent woman that even scared her. Mainly the thought that the only way she could possibly get out of this was to marry well. This was something Arabelle was dead set against.

Too many tales had been told about beautiful young couples, seemingly, falling in love and living happily ever after were exposed as a lie. That in truth those couples never lived happily ever after, that they truly hated each other, schemed against and betrayed each other. Those loving husbands locking their wives up, abusing them, chaining them to the home and children as they indulged in every pleasure of life, becoming heartless cruel libertines.

Arabelle shuddered as she thought of this and again vowed that she would _never_ marry. She would never become such a woman as all of those disillusioned by good looks, money and charm. She could see through those lies and the truth of them all. No, she would never marry, she would never ever trust a man that could hurt her so.

On a whole Arabelle would never trust a man, _any_ man, let him close to her and or open her heart to such an abomination.


	5. Questions

:Back to the present in this chapter. This will occasionally happen, letting us see and hear what Jack feels during the story about his parents. It will also give him the opportunity to voice his concerns and opinions, much to our entertainment.

These chapters will also give us a chance to see Jack and Teague together, how they interact and how they view each other. Also they will answer some questions raised, as well as raise some of their own. These father son chapters will always be special in their own way.

Enjoy

l'il pirate

* * *

"Hang on a minute. That's not right. Are you sure you got this right?"

Teague grinned over to his son, who was sitting forward in his chair with a set of unhappy eyes and an even more unforgiving frown. Teague had known this would be his reaction. Quite frankly, Teague never believed the story himself half the time, then he thought of how things progressed and… he never doubted it.

"You've got it wrong, Da, you're thinking' of the wrong-"

Jack knew of his mother, his dear sweet little mother and her undying love for his father, and in turn- his for her. Jack had never doubted that they had just simply caught sight of each other somewhere, his father had swept his mum off her feet and they fell deeply and madly in love with each other, living happily ever after- as she called it. Sure it was like those trashy romance novels Jack had heard about women falling in love with and those sickening, fake heroic figures they adored. But it fit his parents perfectly. There was none of this _I'll never marry or trust anyone_, or just the stern ruthless attitudes- that never got the girl.

"I think _I_ would know, Jackie."

Jack frowned.

This wasn't going his way and he didn't quite like it. Although it was entertaining as hell to hear about what his father did when he was young and the type of ship he ran, it was his mother that actually worried him. Jack smiled at her wit and straightforward tone with that maggot, and he was proud of her ability and wisdom with ships, but it was her attitude, it wasn't the woman… the '_mum'_ he knew.

Jack's eyes narrowed and he looked from his father to the bottle of rum beside him. Jack didn't move and he didn't speak, he just watched his father, and Teague was quite comfortable watching his son. He smirked as he could see the wheels turning and thoughts formulating in his mind as he stared.

It was then Teague's turn to narrow his eyes, but not suspiciously like Jack but threateningly.

"You think I'm makin' this up, lad?" Teague asked in a low gravely pitch and Jack was unsure, he only cocked his head to the side and gave him one of his saucy smiles.

"It's possible."

Teague rolled his eyes. "You wanted the true story. Whether it's what you expected or not, it's truth."

"What I-?" Jack's mouth grew slack and his father grinned.

Jack shut his mouth, his eyes dancing in the firelight as he propped his feet up on the crate next to the chair, settling down. He faced his father intently.

"How'd you-?"

"You're not that good at hidin' your thoughts from me, lad. I've had too many lads under me, good or bad, to not know what people are thinkin'," Teague interrupted, propping his own feet up, creating a perfect reflection of his son in the chair opposite.

Jack looked at his father and Teague watched Jack, both suddenly let out a laugh and Teague reached for his rum while his son continued to watch him secretly in the dim yellowy light.

Bitting his thumbnail, Jack looked across to the man sitting in the chair opposite, who returned his mug to the table between them and faced him, waiting.

"So, is it true then?" Jack asked in a low voice, Teague held the uncertain look on his face as Jack continued. "If the tales about you and mum weren't true, is any of it?"

"You accuse me of bein' a liar, Jackie?" Teague asked, his voice sharp and cold.

"Nay, just wonderin' if those were just stories to shut me up or if there was some truth to 'em."

Teague held his son's gaze for a long moment then raised his head, making him look even more dangerous and smart with his head tilted back slightly and his eyes chilling black slits.

"Them words were truth."

"All of 'em?"

Teague was silent.

"The Twin Geishas?"

Teague was silent. Jack's lips tugged at a smirk.

"The run along the Ivory Coast?"

Again Teague was silent but it was the sparkle in Teague's eyes that made Jack smirk.

"The shipload of gold from Cartagena?" Jack asked, and the corners of Teague's lips twitched. "The cotton mill in the Americas? Cook Strait the cordon?"

Jack sagged in his chair, his smirk now fading, his eyes dark and wide. These stories, these incredibly amazing stories full of treasure, adventure and danger. He had, when a child believed them but when he grew older he knew they were just stories made up by his father to entertain his son. Now, Jack couldn't believe it. They _were_ true. Those things, those adventures... they had happened to Teague. He _had_ done it all.

"Fiji? Puerto Cortes?"

Teague grunted. "Never mention Puerto Cortes."

Jack didn't move. He sat very still until slowly but surly a smile crept onto his face and flashed his gold teeth as he shook his head.

"And through all that you never came close to dyin'."

"I came close, but I'm not stupid, Jack."

Jack snorted. "That was for me?"

"Aye, that was for you. Get your head out of the bottle and look around, boy. You don't live this long by flying by the moment, charmin' and drinking."

Jack grew sober. Although he had a handful of replies for that one, he said nothing.

"Ne'er hurt me 'fore."

Jack grinned and Teague's eyes narrowed.

"And I don't doubt you had your share of times like that."

Teague gave Jack a hard stare. "I was stupid once. I did stupid things, but one failure was enough for me to sober up and see the truth. Grow up, Jack 'fore you kill yourself."

"Already did." Jack smirked, inner pain showing in his eyes but his face conveying a totally different emotion. "With some… help."

Teague didn't return the smile, he only gave Jack a snarl.

"Don't get cocky with me," Teague grumbled. "It was ye're own fault."

Jack supressed the erg to roll his eyes, and frowned instead.

"Can we skip the lecture?"

Teague grumbled and tossed a wave at Jack as he sat back hard into his chair.

Jack remained silent and reached for his glass, which felt a great deal too dainty for him. He'd take the bottle any day.

"Now, you're gonna tell me you actually did kidnap Prince James," he said, as he brought his glass to his mouth, hoping to redirect the subject.

"Never shut up, that one," Teague replied offhandedly, causing his son to choke on his mouthful of rum.

"What?"

"Always talkin', he was. You know he screamed for about an hour when we locked him in the hold, just becuase he lost his wig and had his shirt torn at the shoulder." Teague shook his head and grumbled. An idiot of a man if I've 'are seen one."

Teague shook his head again and Jack exhaled a smirk as soon as he had recovered from his coughing fit.

"You kidnapped the Prince of Wales? The King of England_, _Scotland_ and Ireland_?"

Teague's eyes shined as he shrugged and scratched his beard.

"More or less."

"How'd you do it? _When_ did you..? How'd you get away?"

Teague chuckled. "_Persuasion_."

Jack smirked and sat back in his chair. There was a moment's silence before he posed his next question.

"That how you got mum?"

Teague's smile faded but his eyes still shimmered in the yellow flickering candle light.

"Nay, she was a completely different story."

And again Teague's eyes took upon that far away look as he picked up the story where Jack had interrupted.

Jack once again sat back in his chair comfortably, casting the odd glance to the journal lying on the table between him and his father. He wondered if when he looked inside its pages he would find the mum he knew or the woman his father remembered. Until then, Jack was left to listen for himself and hear about that woman his father remembered, and one he wasn't yet sure was his mother.

* * *

:I hope you liked the bit of back story in this chapter.

Most of the places mentioned are actually real places on our beautiful planet. I have to give credit to RaithsEnvyMe for the idea of Teague's exploit to kidnap the King of Scotland, thanks so much! He's an actual, which made it all the better, but don't ask me exactly how Teague pulled it off, I didn't write it yet... at all and possible never will. Teague is a mystery, and I think I'll leave him be one in this situation.

Again, a huge thank you to Nytd for being so patient, sorting out spelling errors, sharing ideas and just generally helping me out in a great many things.

Cheers Nytd!


	6. Phoebe

:Back to the past in this chapter. However this chapter gives us a glimps of the life Arabelle had back in Cardiff, as well as more about her freinds. Thus the title.

Enjoy Phoebe and all her energy!

* * *

Arabelle stood at the railing for some time, her mind working overtime planning her new escape, one she would make in a few weeks time. At least this time she would be ready. _But would going to a different place really matter? Would it change her fate? _

Arabelle hugged herself against the wind as tears pricked her eyes. No. Nothing could change that Arabelle was alone and poor. Nothing could change that she had no power to make her life better without making herself miserable.

Arabelle needed Phoebe here to make her laugh at herself, or just make her smile, make her forget her pending worries. Arabelle smiled now as she wiped the sadness from her eyes as she remembered their last private conversation on the eve of Arabelle's departure.

* * *

_Cardiff, England, some weeks ago._

It was another cold dreary day in England. Arabelle again sat by her window looking out at the wet miserable world outside. She was thinking of how much she couldn't wait to leave. All her things were packed and her clothes for the next day laid out by her travelling bag, which held a shawl, book and journal. She was ready to leave. Phoebe was immodestly sprawled across one of the beds twirled her hair as she stared at the ceiling. The girls both sighed again, Arabelle drummed her fingertips along the empty page of the book on her lap and cocking her head to the side, she watched the messenger ride full speed through the streets dousing all he passed in muddy water. Arabelle felt sorry for those people that had been soaked from the rider's horse's hooves or the puddles he had just mercilessly emptied on the brave souls in the streets, but it served them right for living in England by choice. Phoebe, sprawled across the bed, counted spots on the ceiling and cracks in the wall, clicking her tongue and rolling her head right and left on her shoulders.

"Has it stopped raining yet, Belle?" she asked dully.

"No," Arabelle replied with a spiritless tone.

"Ahhh." Phoebe exhaled a great whining sigh as she rolled over onto her stomach. "Does the sodding rain ever stop? I wanted to take you to the theatre before you left, for our last day together."

Arabelle didn't speak. She didn't have time to, for there was a shrill call from outside the door which made the girls both turn as if the door had been a person itself.

"Phoebe Hughes, are d'ose lessons finished yet? You bet'ta not be distractin' Arabelle!"

Phoebe wagged her head drunkenly with mocking lips and buried her face into the bed as Arabelle called a reply.

"No, Mrs. Taylor. We are both just finishing up," she called cheerfully then turned back to the window with same jaded look on her face.

Phoebe pulled her head from the bed and propped it onto her hand as she looked at Arabelle, oblivious to the way her cheek was folded up against her eye.

"I envy you, Belle."

Arabelle sat on the window seat and pulled her legs to her chest.

"Why is that?" she had to ask, practically because she was concerned with the little bit of action outside, a merchant chasing a mutt down the street which trailed a boot through the mud.

"You have to ask?" Phoebe sang with another sigh. "In a fortnight you will be far away from this blinking water spot and quickly approaching clear crystal water, warm ocean breezes, dashing sailors and SUN, a great blinking lot of SUN."

Arabelle cast a smile over her shoulder at her cheery friend.

"I do not really mind the weather or direct sun, I'll just be happy to be home," she replied gently, her mind drifting.

"Why are you so eager to go back? You have no family there. Why not stay here with me? Or at least for a little while, then we'll both go somewhere 'll become two beautiful roving countesses and go anywhere we want."

Arabelle smirked meaningfully at her friend. "Some place grand is my home, Pheb. You have no idea what it's like there. Everything is so beautiful," she sighed with a content smile. "And the sea, you've never seen anything until you've seen the sea."

"What are you talking about? I have seen the sea, you can see it from-."

"No, it is not the same as when you see it all around you. When there is not land in sight at all, when you are completely alone upon a lone ship. It's truly amazing. You feel so insignificant and truly at peace with yourself… for some reason."

Phoebe rolled onto her back once again and sprawled her arms out.

"Not to mention all the fabulously handsome sailors- you've forgotten to mention that."

"What about those dashing pirates I'm always forced to hear about?" belle replied dully.

Phoebe swooned, throwing her hands to her chest she closed her eyes. "Yes! What could ever be better than being captured by a handsome young rouge and then subjected to be press gaged into his crew until we fall madly in love and- sail the seas forever together under the romantic, free horizon."

"Phoebe pirates are thieves, liars and horrible villains- there is nothing romantic about them."

"Oh I would do anything for a man who lives on the sea, commands his own ship and is dressed in exotic garb, earrings and tattoo's." Phoebe dreamed aloud, totally ignoring the truth of Arabelle's words.

Arabelle rolled her eyes and picked up her sketch book, arguing with Phoebe about men, especially the dangerous rouges was purely and horribly futile. Deciding to change the subject Arabelle picked up her pencil and bit the end thoughtfully.

"Pheb, why don't you come too? That way you can see what it's really like, and you can also visit my home and see the world."

Phoebe sighed. "Don't forget my dashing sailors."

Arabelle rolled her eyes sarcastically, dropping her small pencil to the paper and quickly making light wispy sketches as she answered.

"Yes, and all of your handsomely wicked sailors."

"Oooh, I like wicked. Do you think we would meet any gentleman on board?"

"I hardly think you can consider gentlemen your kind of wicked," Arabelle smirked "… Then again, it is quite possible. Why do you ask?"

"I do so love gentlemen, almost as much as-"

"Pheb."

Phoebe smirked and rolled to her side.

"Very well, I shall visit you one day," she replied with an intrepid air. "One day when I am handsomely rich, married to an amazingly wicked rich sailor or gentleman and I shall bring my seven brats along for the journey to meet you."

Arabelle laughed aloud and Phoebe chucked at herself momentarily before turning and facing Arabelle sternly- whose attention was divided by the sketch book in her lap and the lines there within the cream page staring up at her. However, the long pause of silence called Arabelle's eyes up which met her friend's stern ones.

"What?"

"Just promise me, Belle, if I am not there to single-handedly push you into a scandalous passionate affair with some dashing dark stranger, that you will not give your heart to anyone who cannot hold their ground against you. They must be able to fight with you, anger you, test you and humour you. If they have a weaker spirit than yours let them go, luv. They're not the answer to 'till death do us part'."

Arabelle scoffed. "I thank you for the sisterly advice, but you have nothing to worry about. I have no intention of marring anyone I could not stand -especially those who have little to offer. And as for your sentiments on a scandalous affair- my girl- you need to stop trying to marry off your friends and get married yourself."

Phoebe smiled but disregarded her friends murky reply.

"Oh, I will. I just have to find the one man I can't stand."

"Can't stand? That is a new qualification in a husband." Arabelle sarcastically shook her head. She knew Phoebe knew her stand on marriage, but she decided for ol' time sake to let her friend roll with this and not object.

"How do you expect to be happy with someone you cannot stand?"

"Oh, I will be happy if it is the right one. I never said why I couldn't stand him, did I? Just wait, Belle, when you find a man you can't stand you'll find out something else- if he's the one, you won't be able to stand NOT being with him."

"You are hopelessly, and might I add, dangerously, naive, Phoebe dear." Arabelle stood, picking up her book with her. " 'The One'. I have never heard anything so ridiculous in my life."

"I have," Phoebe called as Arabelle dropped her book into her bag. "You ever getting married."

"Perhaps you are right, I won't," Arabelle retorted with the same defiant spirit.

Phoebe jumped up and kneeled on the bed, grasping the iron footboard tightly.

"Then let me rephrase that. You ever meeting a man you could actually talk to without tearing him apart."

Arabelle gave her friend a well deserved scowling smirk.

"I will have you know that when or if I ever meet a man who withstands a fight with me, and proves he has more backbone than focussing his time on pleasurable and or rich company and advancing his own fortune while ignoring all manners of family and affection, I shall be perfectly content to leave my whole life and better judgment behind and marry him- no matter how much I have come to loath such a union."

Phoebe pouted her lips with a perfect mischievous smile on her face as Arabelle headed toward their small writing table.

"Now, I would appreciate some peace and quiet. I have some letters to write and you, dear Phoebe, have lessons to start. Something you will miss me for very quickly- for I will not be here to do them for you," she said over her shoulder as Phoebe cringed. "Your lesson book is over there where you left it under your clothes. You insisted on moving in here before I am even gone."

Arabelle always got very heated in a conversation on marriage, and this time was no exception- although she hadn't yelled. This was something Phoebe knew very well. After years of prospective suitors were turned away or sometimes even flat out embarrassed, Phoebe had little hope for her friend ever finding a man she thought was agreeable.

But Phoebe disregarded such a thought, there were better things she could be doing than wondering about Arabelle's hate for marriage. She listened to Arabelle and picked herself up and went across the room, found her lesson book under a large pile of stockings and corsets, and threw it onto the bed with a hateful scowl.

"Can you blame me? I wanted a good room. I deserve it, don't you think? Don't you think your best friend should get your room- to preserve your essence in this fine institution?" she mocked and then playfully glared at her friends back. "You know you could have told Mrs. Taylor to give it to me, then I wouldn't have had to fight that wench for it."

"Phoebe! Watch your tongue. Mary is new, be nice. She could hear you."

"I don't care. Have you seen the girl? I swear her corset is three times too small by the way her-"

"Phoebe!"

Phoebe cast her friend a smile rolled over again.

Arabelle turned back to her letters with a sigh.

"Honestly, Phoebe, you are acting like a child. Mary has done nothing to you. You need to learn to be more pleasant to people no matter what you think of them."

"Come on, Belle, you are not going to say anything."

"No, I will not but you cannot be too sure about others. Not everyone is like me, Pheb. You can get into a lot of trouble saying things like that. What are you going to do when I am gone? What if you are so unfortunate to confess something like that to a girl who cannot be trusted? You must be more careful," Arabelle replied. Looking over her shoulder, Arabelle began to write as she spoke to Phoebe, sobering on the bed across the room.

There was a long moment of silence before Arabelle heard soft footsteps behind her. With a soft smile, she replaced her quill into the inkwell just as Phoebe wrapped her arms around Arabelle's shoulders.

"What am I going to do without you, Belle?"

"You're going to do what you have always done, flirt, dance, laugh and sing. You'll be fine. You don't need me here holding you back."

"Oh, Belle, you've never held me back, you've always just held me on track," Phoebe whimpered. "Do you really have to leave?"

"I want to, Pheb. You understand, don't you?"

Phoebe sighed and released her friend, planting a sisterly kiss on her cheek.

"Yes. I guess I just don't like it when we all grow up and away. I mean, you'll send word when you get home, won't you?"

Arabelle's eyes pricked with tears. She hadn't thought of that. She didn't think this that meant goodbye forever. It still didn't feel real- it felt like a dream. She hadn't thought of having to say goodbye to Phoebe. She was touched Phoebe was truly so emotional- especially since this was the girl who flirted with the groom at weddings.

"Of course I will, Pheb. As soon as I get settled, I will write to you," she replied, standing before her friend, grasping her hands in her own. "But how will I know where-"

"Oh, I'll be here," Phoebe shrugged with a smile. "I don't think I'll ever leave England. That is, not until you send for me and my brats."

The girls both giggled and watched each other battle to hide their tears.

"Do you promise?" Phoebe inquired as solemnly as she could.

Arabelle smiled and hugged her friend tightly. "Yes, Phoebe. I promise. As soon as I can, I will send word to you. I'd never want to loose touch with are my dearest friend."

* * *

Arabelle frowned, missing her dear friend so much more after thinking of that day. Would she even ever see Phoebe again? Dearly she hoped so, but she didn't know. She never knew if she would get that far.

Heartbroken by such a thought, Arabelle hugged herself tightly as the loneliness crept in and surrounded her.

"Ehm."

Arabelle turned slightly to her left to face Mr. Bishop standing at her side once again. Arabelle sorely wasn't in the mood for him, or anyone for the matter and snapped.

"What now? More ill mannered questions?" she exclaimed bitterly but failed in hiding the sadness in her voice and her eyes.

"Beg your pardon, Miss." Hesitating, he swallowed, which surprisingly made him a great deal more humane than the arrogant man she had met the day before. "I did not mean to upset you."

"What?" Arabelle checked herself and sighed. "No,it's quite alright. I was only thinking of the past."

"A painful separation of young lovers, am I right?" he offered with a smile, and Arabelle scowled sourly.

"Hardly. Now you'll have to excuse me, I-"

"I'm sorry… It was a jest," he offered and Arabelle took a double take.

"Excuse me?"

"I did not mean to offend you. I only meant to jest," Mr. Bishop replied with an expectant look in his eyes. "I do not mean to make you leave, and I did not mean to interrupt you. Once again I only wished to-"

"No, you did not. I just really must go, I am… expected," Arabelle replied quickly, searching for a lie.

"Very well…may I walk you there?" Bishop asked kindly, offering his arm.

Arabelle jerked her arm away slightly and waved him off.

"No. I am quite capable of walking myself, I-"

"I do not doubt your capability, Miss but I simply inquired if I you would _allow_ me to accompany you- to redeem myself of sorts." Again he offered his arm, this time with a dashing smile.

"And I politely refused. I thank you, sir but no. Good day," Arabelle replied coldly and turned as Bishop frowned.

"Another time, then," he called and Arabelle ignored him, making it look like he was not heard.

Again, she disappeared below deck, this time- surprisingly, to inquire after Mrs. Radford. She needed a distraction from her mind, even if it was an unwelcome one.

**

* * *

**

:Thanks for the interest again guys. My favourite chapter thus far is coming up next so stay tuned. I'll let you know when you come to it and then you can let me know if you like it as well.

l'il pirate


	7. Women and Guitars

:Here we go, my favorite chapter so far. As you read I'm sure you'll be able to see why, as well as love it yourself. It's about Teague one night on the Ash Bough.

Exactly what do captain's, like Teague, do with their time? To me, it goes something like this.

l'il pirate

* * *

That night Teague stood at the helm as the ship ghosted the harbor's mouth. He wouldn't take any chances. Normally Teague sailed his ship right into the harbor and docked, letting the men who wanted to carouse the town while the others went home to their families, but that usually meant Teague would need to stay a few days to take care of some business and deal with the port authorities. He didn't have the patience to deal with all the legal work this time, and besides they had far better things to do, mainly meeting up with the trade vessels.

He watched the men, in the dying light of the sun's rays, loading into the longboat. Everyone had smiles plastered onto their faces and light tones in their voices. They took nothing with them but the clothes on their backs, a weapon or two and less likely, a small sachet of coins, but they looked happier than Kings surrounded with wealth. Teague watched them intently as they laughed at each other, tossing around the odd joke about the other's wife's cooking or the children they had. It didn't matter what any of them said though, even Mutt who promised each of them two beautiful strumpets- on him- if they stayed. The men only laughed, refusing him with only good things to say about their wives and children on shore.

Teague watched as the longboat was hoisted overboard and slowly lowered. _What was so good about having… rather being tied down to one woman and a house full of brats? _Teague mused_. Nothing good he could name, but then, why did they all seem so happy? Happier than Teague had ever been in his life. He didn't run that strict a ship._ Teague grumbled to himself.

There was only one thing they had that he didn't. Maybe it was that thing that Teague was missing, but _did it matter? Did that actually bring consistent happiness, like it seemed for these? Was that the only thing? No, no._

This was always where Teague shut himself out.

Wives always wanted you home- Teague belonged to the sea. Wives were jealous, pretentious people- then again so were strumpets. Wives wanted jewels and gold- Teague could give them that. Wives wanted their husbands- Teague could, in some respects, give them that as well. Wives always wanted children- Teague hated children. Wives wanted loyalty- now that was harder.

"Captain?"

Teague snapped from his thoughts to face Dominic, the only smart landsman he had on the ship.

"The men have cast off, sir. Shall we hoist anchor?"

Teague nodded. "Send Marshal to me first."

"Aye, captain."

Teague watched Dominic disappear down the stairs, his mind becoming occupied once again, but not with family. Gabriel had some dismissing to do and Teague was set to see it happen.

Within thirty minutes the young men received their final wages, collected their few possessions and loaded into the longboat with two of Teague's men. They would be brought to the docks and left there to join another ship or find work on land as the other men returned the longboats to the ship, where they would hopefully be gone before daybreak.

Teague was quite pleased with the entire process. Not one man had become upset or questioned the dismissal terms, probably in fear of Teague's anger, and Teague was happy to be rid of six pairs of useless, and not needed, hands.

Only two landsmen were exempt from judgment. Dominic, who grew up in and around ships, always learning very quickly and on good terms with Teague. And Hunter, a young man found adrift near Sicily and a nearly a prodigy of sailing. So plainly it was also known that both Dominic and Hunter were exempt from such a, no matter how generous, judgment.

As soon as the longboat was loaded and lowered down into the waves Teague took his leave from the deck and returned to his cabin. It had been a long few days and finally, with the useless men gone, Teague could get some real rest knowing his ship was in good hands. The men would need their captain well rested for the days ahead.

Teague, after closing the door behind him, took off his hat and fiddled with the brim as he made his way to the his desk and chair, as he did almost ritually upon entering the cabin. When he walked around the desk to the chair, he dropped his hat and watched it sail down to the desk as he slid his coat off and laid it over the back of his chair. Rotating his head on his shoulders, Teague groaned and sat down.

His eyes quickly surveyed the table and the work, the log books, maps and other various books, laying upon it. With a sigh Teague hung his head and rotated his painful shoulders, neck and aching arm. With long nimble fingers Teague rubbed the base of his neck and his shoulder and groaned again.

To outsiders Teague seemed like an immortal person with a killer personality. Those who saw him saw strength, intensity and raw power. Little did people know, Teague was those things but he was also less. Teague was not immortal. He did not have an undying amount of strength and or power. Teague grew tied and ran out of strength as much as any other man, he just hid it well. When the crew slept below deck Teague would fight to sleep. He would pace the floor of his cabin, sit at his deck idly, chart courses, fill log books or sit back in his favorite chair and strum the night away on his guitar. Whatever he did, he found little rest and his mood suffered greatly.

Upon emerging every morning, Teague seemed even more on edge than usual, but the men were used to Teague's attitudes and thought nothing of it. This was the Teague they knew. What they didn't know was how every night he walked the floor of his cabin, massaging his tired muscles as best he could and waited for morning to come.

Some nights he would relieve the entire crew and man the helm alone all night long, staring up at the stars or the black vast ocean before him. He felt free on those nights; free of his aching muscles and the noisy world bearing down on him. It was then that he could walk about the ship and think without worrying about people interrupting his thoughts or invading this time. This was one thing he liked about being alone- you were truly alone.

But not this night. Teague would stay in his cabin and work until the morning light broke up from the horizon.

Again, Teague rotated his shoulders and sat back in his chair. He could hear the men outside clearing the deck and jostling down the stairs to their hanging cabins below deck, where they would rest their weary bones. Teague waited until the noise had abated and was filled with silence.

Taking a deep breath, drinking in the gentle rhythm of the waves lapping at the hull ,Teague pulled himself up and walked over to a closed cabinet against the opposite wall. Standing before it for several minutes Teague selected a medium sized bottle from the racks inside. Checking the colour in the lamplight hanging on the nearby wall, Teague closed the cabinet door and walked back to his desk, unbuttoning his vest with his free hand on the way.

Again, Teague sat with an empty sigh, set the bottle down an arms length away and opened the drawer to his right. Rummaging through its contents, he pulled out an ink well, quill and a black leather bound ledger. Setting them upon the desk, he set to work, to waste yet another sleepless night with work and drink.

Teague must have fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion that night, for it wasn't long before the things on his desk began to swim before his eyes and eventually fade into darkness. However, the darkness did not last very long; soon it faded as he opened his eyes and found himself standing on deck.

Looking around, Teague was puzzled how he came about to be here, and that it was morning so quickly. But those questions did not persist, for his eyes fell upon something moving through the men working below. A woman. Teague immediately was caught off guard.

_A woman? _

She was laughing with Hunter and the men around exchanged smiles as if very accustom to doing so. Teague stared, shocked at seeing this woman so comfortable on board his ship. Teague watched her closely.

She continued to walk about the deck, watching everyone work and talk with a few others. Soon however, Teague began to catch her looking up to him every so often. Teague was not concerned, but he felt there was something she knew that he did not- something which made Teague unhappy.

And then, as soon as he had found himself on deck Teague blinked and found himself walking down a dirt street somewhere on a sunny day. Merchants lined the streets and people mulled everywhere. Looking around, trying to find a landmark, Teague noticed the woman he had seen on his ship. Now his interest was aroused.

_Who was she? What was she and he doing here and_…

She stood by a merchant's stall and cast a glance over her shoulder and smiled at Teague.

_And why did she keep looking at him like that? _

Just then Teague's vision went black. Everything disappeared. A moment later Teague opened his eyes.

He was in his cabin upon the _Ash Bough_ once again, and sitting at his desk, with the same papers and books before him as moments before. Teague looked about the cabin and out the window. It was still dark and silent. Turning back to the desk, Teague looked at the candle on the far side. It was still flickering brightly and had not melted down at all. He must have just dosed off. Asleep for mere moments, dreaming, then awoke- for nothing had changed. It was the only explanation.

Teague blinked hard several times and shook his head before he lowered it into his hand and rubbed his forehead. Another reason Teague didn't sleep very much- dreams.

Teague stood up and walked toward the door, rubbing his chest under his shirt as he sauntered across the room. He entered his small cabin and emerged a moment later with his honey-coloured guitar, ready to once again chase away the night and its demons. As he walked back into the room, and toward his favorite chair, Teague carried the guitar by its neck and felt the strings teasing his finger tips. Grinning softly to himself, he sat down in the green high back chair and lowered the guitar into his lap as he rested his foot upon a small chest he had dubbed his footstool years ago.

A grin played upon Teague's lips as he stroked the strings, simply admiring the craftsmanship of the instrument. Teague rejected the temptation of just jumping into song. The candle light reached for the guitar, grabbing at its edges greedily but Teague sat in the darkness, where he felt the most comfortable and ran his hand along the instrument's honey face. Teague's fingers itched to play; he could not hold them back from stroking the strings longingly. Before long the silence of muffled waves was filled with a soft eerie but soothing rhythm.

There was a slight drop of tempo as Teague's lips parted and whispered to himself his own words as he strummed and slid his fingers along the strings, pressing and releasing to receive the perfect notes to harmonize with the words dropping from his tongue.

"_Ten thousand men sleep down with Davy Jones; with stolen treasure they tithe."_

"_The open water chills me to my bones, but it's the only place that I feel alive. "_

"_The ocean floor begins to disappear; I sense that terrible depth."_

" _The open water is my only fear, but I'll sail as long as I have breath in me." _

"…_In me."_

"… _I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you, cause its gives and it takes away."_

"_Between the devil and the deep blue sea, I stare into the abyss."_

" _The open water is an awful thing, but I'm anxious till the anchor is aweigh." _

"_Aweigh."_

"_I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you, 'cause it gives, and it takes away." _

"_I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you, 'cause it gives and it takes… away." _

"_I'm starting to… believe the ocean's much like you… cause it gives, and it takes… away."_

Teague continued to play softly as he looked up and out the large window behind the desk. Effortlessly, his fingers continued to slide along the strings as his mind focussed on the window and what might be out there.

He had seen the world, done everything, but _what was missing? _He had been everywhere but still he felt empty. He was home upon the sea, always anxious upon land like he had sung moments before, but then _what would fill that void inside him? Would he ever find what would? _

Teague lowered his fingers to the guitar in his hands. Too many questions. Too many words and thoughts. Teague closed his eyes and let the music do the talking.

* * *

:The song, sung and played by Teague in this chapter is truly an actual song, no words have been changed, added or removed. For those who have never heard it before it is titled _Open Water_, written and preformed by Thrice. Thus all credit and reviews are dedicated to all Thrice band members for this chapter.

How'd you like the song?

l'il pirate


	8. Chaperones

:Arabelle's back, this time with the infuriating Mrs. Radford.

Scene: Mrs. Radford meets Mr. Bishop.

Outcome: apparent love at first sight. Take a look.

* * *

Weeks now had passed since Mr. Bishop had interrupted her thoughts of England, and Arabelle was finding with each day her world was becoming more and more fragile.

With her days being occupied with simply waiting for a chance at freedom, avoiding Mr. Bishop and his growing interest in her, and listening to Mrs. Radford continue on and on about how dreadfully ill she was, Arabelle was exhausted beyond expected.

Thinking that her nights would bring her even a small amount of solitude and sanity, Arabelle was sadly mistaken. If she was not forced to endure painful memories of her friends and time in England it was nightmares of her family's tragic end or worries about her very bleak future.

If that was not enough the walls in the ship were incredibly thin. She could hear everything going on in the cabins around her from the argumentative Mr and Mrs. Murry to the nightly rituals of the Kennit's, which deemed it impossible for Arabelle to look either in the eye without gagging.

It would be two weeks before they would reach Il a Amsterdam and Arabelle found herself counting down the days anxiously. She was growing tired of always looking over her shoulder and worrying about closing her eyes. She was exhausted and she wanted to be rid of these people. She wanted a new place, people and life.

Ever since Mrs. Radford had begun to recover Arabelle found herself even jumpier than ever. It had happened suddenly. Mrs. Radford had arrived at Arabelle's door unexpectedly one afternoon claiming she needed air and a new topic of conversation, she wanted to meet the Mrs. Herriot everyone was talking about. Arabelle, unhappily, relented and walked on deck with her chaperone for twenty odd minutes, having no luck finding their subject but Mrs. Radford had no objections to staying and walking a bit more. So Arabelle grumbled and gave the woman a smile.

Arabelle was anxious to return below deck. She had no objection of walking but her cabin was the only place she felt totally safe. She was safe from any others but alone with herself. Smartly Arabelle had killed two birds with one stone, she borrowed a very captivating novel from Laury to drive her thoughts away.

It was a tale of the high seas with betrayals, storms and treasure. Arabelle was near halfway through all ready and anxious to get back to it, she wanted to know what happened to Captain Garrick and his loyal crew. She had just gotten to a very exciting chapter of-

"Miss Sparrow."

Arabelle flinched. She knew that voice, it was the one she had been trying ardently to avoid.

"Excuse me Sir, I don't believe I have had the pleasure."

Arabelle rolled her eyes and cringed as Mrs. Radford's fake honey voice filled her ears, without looking at the woman Arabelle knew she was smilingly sweetly and looking him up and down with interest.

"No I do not believe we have. I am Mr. Bishop, Jonathan Bishop. And I presume you are Mrs. Sparrow. I hope this does not offend, but I would just like to say you have a very spirited daughter."

Arabelle glared at him, turning around sharply. "She's not my-"

"Ha ha." Mrs. Radford laughed delicately and waved her gloved hand at him with a smile. "Now dear sir… _sadly_ I am not this child''s mother, although I do dear wish I would have been. I am Mrs. Radford, this young lady is under the care of my husband and myself since the death of her family."

"Oh." Mr. Bishop looked to Arabelle sorrowfully. "I am deeply sorry for-"

Arabelle ignored him and glared at Mrs. Radford, trying to pull her arm away from the other woman.

"I am not under your care! You were only-"

"Hush now Miss Sparrow." Mrs. Radford shushed, with a kind smile dripping with poison. "Not before company."

"Company?" Arabelle exclaimed

"Miss Sparrow please, I did not wish to-" Mr. Bishop tried to speck but it was useless, Arabelle cut him off with a curt wave of her hand.

"No, I don't care what-"

"Ara-" The older woman began but again Arabelle cut in, scowling at Mr. Bishop accusingly.

"And how do you know my name!"

"Arabelle Sparrow!" Mrs. Radford exclaimed in a tight whisper and she squeezed Arabelle's arm tightly. Arabelle turned to Mrs. Radford unhappily and grinded her teeth.

"Watch your tongue before strangers miss, and be polite. What have I told you?"" She hissed and Mr. Bishop averted his eyes, shifting uncomfortably. Arabelle grimaced as she caught his movements out of the corner of her eye. If being scolded like a child wasn't enough Mrs. Radford didn't have enough sense to spare Arabelle's, or anyone else's for that matter, ego and scold in private, she had to do it right in plain view of everyone.

"Now apologise to Mr. Bishop."

Arabelle''s lips parted as her jaw grew slack. "What?"

Mrs. Radford's eyes blazed and her fingernails dug into Arabelle's skin. Arabelle winced- she could just imagine blood dripping down from her arm under this woman's sharp claws.

"If I do will you release me?" Arabelle asked outright and Mrs. Radford glared at her but turned quickly to Mr. Bishop and chuckled.

"Such a spirited girl as you say, her spite hides that lovely sense of humor she possesses." she smiled as she cupped Arabelle's chin in her hand, which Arabelle shook away.

"Quite, but it is that sense of humor I still am to see." he replied far more kindly towards Arabelle than expected.

Arabelle didn't even bother looking up at him though, she looked down at her arm and Mrs. Radford's white finger tips pressing hard into her skin with agony. If there was no blood she would defiantly carry a scar or bruise, she was sure of it.

"Ehem… Miss Sparrow?" Mrs. Radford pressed her grip harder into Arabelle's arm and she fought hard not to squirm and give the woman any satisfaction of her inflicted pain.

"I apologise for my words." Arabelle mumbled

"That is better, now…" Mrs. Radford released Arabelle and she rubbed her arm, which was red and scared with four deep red nail marks. "… Forgive me I have been unwell for quite some time, you two know each other?"

Mr. Bishop smiled and nodded with a shrug. "It has been quite difficult to get to know this young lady, but I am trying. She makes it as impossible for anyone at all it would seem. Except that blond young sailor, am I right Miss Sparrow."

Mrs. Radford opened her mouth, but closed it again, resorting to just scowling at Arabelle instead, who was glaring at Mr. Bishop.

"What do my choice of friends matter to you? And how do you know my name?"

"You have not given it?" Mrs. Radford gasped.

"No, why would I?" Arabelle retorted coolly.

"Not that it is any business of mine Miss Sparrow, but you have only peeked my curiosity as to why in heavens name would you make such friends with a lowly grown cabin boy when such company is so far beneath you, and when there is much more suitable and profitable members of society on this very ship?"

"Like you?" Arabelle laughed.

"Yes, like myself." Mr. Bishop defended, losing his smile.

"Because, Mr. Bishop, I have found that servants, peasants and sailors such as my friend Mr. Tallard are far tolerable than anyone of higher society such as yourself. Besides, in my experience those in higher society are full of conceit, snobbery, self indulgence and possess no sense of kindness whatsoever. I am poor Mr. Bishop, extremely poor- I have no design to attach myself to higher society when I have nothing to offer such wealth eager culture. At least with Mr. Tallard and such ones I have no lie to live, I am comfortable as I am and I do not need you, Mrs. Radford or any others to steer me away from my set course." Arabelle explained confidently and stared on as her audience was deathly silent. Mrs. Radford was in clearly in shock and Mr. Bishop purely unemotional. Arabelle took this as an opportunity to escape and gave them a light bow.

"Good day Mr. Bishop, Mrs. Radford, I hope you enjoy the remainder of this lovely day." she gave them a fake smile and turned away, again disappearing below deck but first catching the eye of Laury, standing not too far away from the hatch.

Laury gave her a smirk, telling her '_good for you_' and Arabelle smiled genuinely. How grand it was to have friends like Laury and Phoebe. Phoebe! Arabelle held back a giggle, if Phoebe had been here she would have laid right into Mrs. Radford and probably… flirted with Mr. Bishop. Arabelle shook her head, maybe it was a good thing she wasn't here. She would have been in a great deal more trouble.

Arabelle was lucky when she returned to her cabin, she was able to arrive there quickly and directly without being intercepted. But when she arrived at her cabin, slamming the door behind her, she fell into pacing and ignored all other reasons she had wanted to come here for.

She was no longer the young woman seeking solitude in a book but an annoyed and frustrated woman wanting nothing but enough backbone to literally stand her ground and not keep running away. Arabelle ripped her shawl off her shoulders and threw it across the room as she flung her arms in the air and groaned angrily.

'Why!' her mind screamed. 'I'm better than that. Why do I run down here every time I get scared?'

Arabelle shook her head, it was no use.

She sat down on her cot in a huff. It was her escape, her cabin was at her disposal and she was getting sloppy. Back in England she had no escape no fortress to hide in like here, although her cabin was no fortress it was a small hole she could climb into and sit alone in the dark. In England, she could escape to her room but all her problem's followed her. Everyone but Mr. Fenton, the school's master, would walk right into her room if there was a problem, or if they just needed to confront her. That way Arabelle was always being bombarded with her problems and made to solve them straight off, _there_, there was none of this running away.

Arabelle grimaced and stood. Next time she would not run away. She would be as brave as she had always been and stand up to anything thrown at her. Arabelle leaned over her cot and pulled the shawl up from the floor at the end of it and shook it off she walked to her trunk beside her door.

Just as she moved there was a loud knocking at the door. Arabelle waited a moment, to make sure it was her door being knocked on but when the banging continued and grew louder Arabelle furrowed her brow and opened the door, only to have all sense of curiosity killed immediately.

Pushing her way through, Mrs. Radford stomped- as ladylike as she could, into Arabelle's cabin as the younger jumped away.

"Yes, may I help you?"

"May I help you indeed!" Mrs. Radford snapped. "Do you have any idea the pain and discomfort you are giving me?"

Arabelle arched her brow and looked on just counting the moments until the woman launched into theatricals.

"And me in such a sickened state. Honestly Miss Sparrow I do not know what Mrs. Taylor did with you. You are the most irrational, immodest, haughty and insolent girl I have ever met. It's a wonder you have gotten this far in life without being set right. And I am as equally shocked that, that dear honest gentleman wants to even behold your face again let alone ask for you."

"What!" Arabelle spun around from the looking glass she had migrated to during Mrs. Radford's description of her character. Her hands falling slowly from tucking a few stands of hair into her wind frayed bun she stared at the irate Mrs. Radford with large eyes.

"Watch your tone with me young lady. You heard me. He wants you right now in fact so hurry and clean yourself up."

Arabelle didn't move, she was far too shocked at this request. _He wanted to see her?_ After she had said all those things, _what was wrong with this man_? Mrs. Radford grunted and stepped forward, pushed Arabelle into the chair at her side and commenced to dressing her hair.

"No, don't. Please Mrs-" Arabelle tried to move away but Mrs. Radford held fast.

"You _will _sit in that chair and listen to everything I say like a proper lady. You can sit there by your choice or mine, which will be a great deal more uncomfortable, do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Arabelle replied, grumbling to herself but listening to the older woman, who in her mind would make a great evil step mother... not that she wanted one.

Mrs. Radford pulled all the hair pins out of Arabelle's hair and shook out the bun which sent her chestnut locks cascading down her shoulders and halfway down her back. Mrs. Radford played with the locks of hair a moment or two before deciding exactly what to do with them and turned so she could look at Arabelle's face framed with chestnut waves, before moving back quickly and beginning to pull them up, folding and tucking then in various places.

"You know with your hair down you look almost pretty."

Arabelle bit her lip and remained silent. She knew she wasn't beautiful but she always hated how people down graded the young woman who did not flaunt her figure or face. As if these opinionated people were the perfect judges of beauty, they were usually the, _simply_, ugly ones.

_Almost pretty _indeed she huffed.

But then, it _was _a compliment coming from Mrs. Radford and she best take it as it was.

"Thank you." She mumbled and Mrs. Radford ignored her as she continued to pull and tug shoving pins hard into Arabelle's head and scraping her scalp mercilessly.

Arabelle was just about to scream when Mrs. Radford shoved the last pin in and stepped back.

"There. Now your dress."

"What's wrong with my dress?"

"It's positively-"

"I happen to like it. I have done my hair over for him I hardly think I need to change my dress simply because he asked to see me." Arabelle interjected briskly.

Mrs. Radford grumbled and turned. "You have a great deal to learn Miss."

"Grab your shawl and follow me." she called commanding the younger woman.

Arabelle saluted her behind her back and grabbed her shawl, threw it over her shoulder and prepared to stomp after Mrs. Radford but stopped suddenly as she came upon herself in the looking glass. Staring, Arabelle resisted the temptation of touching the glass and the dreamlike reflection within.

There was a woman staring back at her in wonder. She was plain, with dark rippling hair beautifully done up and her face flushed prettily. She looked oddly familiar and it took a moment before Arabelle realized, feeling very daft what, or rather who she was looking at. _This could not be her... could it?_

"Arabelle!" Mrs. Radford hissed from the door, insinuating the double L- E which caused Arabelle to jump and scurry after her out the door, closing it suddenly behind her, instantly forgetting the women in the mirror.


	9. An Invitation and A Bottle of Rum

It was nearly two hours time before Arabelle could return to her cabin, and solely for the purpose of changing into a suitable dress for dinner. By that time she was thoroughly upset and displeased with that lack of propriety in the people surrounding her.

Not only had she been subjected to facing Mr. Bishop straight after embarrassing him but Mrs. Radford made it her aim to see the two completely alone for the entire afternoon. Not that Arabelle was afraid of Mr. Bishop, nor his intentions but it was the fact that Mrs. Radford was so eager to hand Arabelle off to anyone who showed the slightest bit of interest.

Arabelle had tried all afternoon to make her disinterest clear as she struggled to be civil but everything went wrong. It started with Mrs. Radford pushing her to Mr. Bishop and ended with Arabelle appearing afraid of him, which he consoled her that he would be as kindly and gentlemanly as mother Teresa- which only made Arabelle laugh behind his back. Then Arabelle slipped on some water on the deck and was caught by Mr. Bishop who insisted on her taking his arm for the rest of the time, Arabelle refused but with a threat Mrs. Radford remained in control.

Next Mr. Bishop introduced Arabelle to his party and they spent a good part of the afternoon chatting pleasantly. Arabelle actually did not have any objections with his company except the odd person or character, she did however feel very out of place with them. They talked of world affairs, theater, books and city life with interest while Arabelle found her mind drifting with the slightest movement from the corner of her eyes, wishing she had her sketchbook with her to draw the sailor climbing the rigging or capture the unique and beautiful character of Bishop's female friend Miss Barnett. However even that seemly pleasant time was ruined by Bishop's friend Mr. Caye with the remark that Arabelle was definitely not the woman he had expected to peek his friend's intimate fancy.

Arabelle had been ready to snap at this rude man but again, as if a shadow she noticed Mrs. Radford standing not too far off, scowling disapprovingly at her. Arabelle, normally disregarding the woman or her wishes, checked herself and gave the man a smile and simply answered that she was even more shocked he had such a friend that would say such things and she made it clear she had no interest in Bishop, for any reasons, at all.

It was soon after that when Mr. Bishop took his leave of the party and, with Arabelle on his arm, continued to walk about the deck struggling to make small talk with Arabelle that wouldn't irk her. This went on for a good part of an hour before they ran into Captain Thuron, they talked with him a little while before he took his leave of them requesting they join him for dinner in his cabin. Accepting Arabelle and Mr. Bishop heartily agreed, for it was not anyone who received an invitation to dine at the captain's table. That was when Arabelle took her leave of Mr. Bishop, and him her, to prepare for dinner.

So here she was, once again in her cabin and filing through her trunk of modest clothing trying to find a dress to wear. Her clothing was plain but it was her favourite styles. Arabelle never aimed to impress people with yards of expensive fabric trimmed with fur or jewels, she only wanted to be free of the worries of an elaborate dresses and interest arousing neck lines she would be fussing over continually. Finding a dress, finally, Arabelle pulled it out and held it up to herself. It was her dark green gown with long tight sleeves and an empire waist. It was a very simple gown but it was clean, fresh and modest. Satisfied, Arabelle tossed it onto her bed and began to dress herself for dinner.

After dressing, and checking her hair once more, Arabelle left her cabin in search of Mr. And Mrs. Radford. Although Arabelle hated the idea of letting such gossips know about her evening plans she needed to excuse herself from dinner with them to prevent a scene later. She usually was forced to eat with them for dinner, and she now unfortunately needed to beg to be excused. Arabelle didn't get halfway before she unexpectedly ran, headlong, into Laury.

"Beggin' your pardon Miss." Laury fumbled as he fixed his hat upon his head once again.

Arabelle gave him a smile and soothed her skirts. "It's quite alright. I am only glad it was you and not Mrs. Radford for I would have been knocked flat."

Laury grinned.

"But I will not keep you, you seem very busy."

Laury shook his head. "Nay. Actually I was looking for you."

"Oh, what ever for?"

"You're dining with the captain, I was gonna see if you... well..."

"Miss Sparrow."

Laury turned and Mr. Bishop strode forward, stopping beside the younger man.

"Mr. Bishop? What are you doing down here?" Arabelle inquired as calmly as she could. In truth she was annoyed that the man would not leave her alone and that he felt it his duty to come find her, apparently at her cabin, unaccompanied.

"Dinner with Captain Thuron?" Bishop raised an eyebrow and looked her over. "I can see by your attire you have forgotten, I shall wait. But we must not be late."

"My attire?" Arabelle frowned, her tone growing tight and cold. "What is wrong with this dress?"

Mr. Bishop opened his mouth but Arabelle shut it with her own words.

"I hardly think my choice of dress is of any consequence to you Mr. Bishop. I am quite pleased with the way I am dressed. And I have not forgotten about the dinner invitation, I was on my way there now. First I need to speck with Mrs. Radford about-"

"There is no need. I have spoken to your guardians and excused you from dinner. They had no objections. But please we really must be going." Mr. Bishop gave Arabelle his arm, which she declined.

"Excuse me Mr. Bishop but I would rather Mr. Tallard take me. If he has no objections that is." Arabelle turned to Laury, questioningly, who only grinned lightly before he nodded.

"No miss." He replied gently and Arabelle slipped her arm into his with her own smile.

"The cabin boy?" Bishop exclaimed smugly, looking Laury up and down as a cruel mighty King would regard a lowly old carriage horse.

Arabelle scowled at this and quickly felt the need to defend Laury.

"His name is-"

"It does not matter. It is clear that the boy was not invited to dine with the captain. We were invited together, thus we should arrive and appear together. It is only proper Miss Sparrow." He cut her off rudely with the wave of his hand and instructed her briskly, as if he was a King.

Arabelle opened her mouth but turned sharply to Laury when she felt his hand on hers. Puzzled, she watched as Laury lifted her hand and removed it from his arm

"He's right."he mumbled and Arabelle frowned.

Bishop smirked coldly and took Arabelle's arm, leading her away before she could protest.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Teague, even more than before, kept to himself for the next few days. He left any duties up to Gabriel and hid away in his cabin with his books, rum and his guitar like a forest hermit. This was not all unusual for Teague, for he sometimes did just this and withdrew himself from the others, but it generally never lasted more than a day. Pretty soon three days had passed before anyone but Gabriel had seen Teague, and he merely for a moment.

Soon the crew began to grow restless, unsure of the captains condition and grew tired of Abe assuring them blindly that he was in good health and only quite busy. However the men ignored such assurances and approached Madrid, the cocky young sailor, to gain access to the captain's quarters on a plea of concern. Well, truly that was not the case. The crew sent Madrid to spy, bet him actually, and not being the kind of man to turn down a few free shillings, not to mention the pride of such an escapade he would carry Madrid accepted with inflated cockiness.

And so, watching the cabin door for the entire day Madrid made his move only as soon as Abe handed command over to Raul, midshipman and avid follower of Abe's example. Holding contempt for both men Madrid scoffed at the easiness of his plot and easily slipped in under the other man's bragging to another sailor.

Knocking twice Madrid entered without being bidden and closed the door gently behind him only to quickly tiptoe through the small adjoining doorway towards the captains quarters/meeting room. However, only after a few steps Madrid's feet slowed. Cocking his head to the side and straining his ears he waited. For moments, seconds nearly he swore he heard music. Until...

"Come in Madrid."

Furrowing his brow Madrid waited, not ready to give away his position.

"I'm serious. I know your there."

Jumping from his hiding spot Madrid burst into the large cabin scowling with good nature.

"Come on, that's not fair. How'd you know it was me?"

"No one walks as light as you. 'Sides no one but you and Basile are stupid enough to come in here without being bidden." Teague retorted cooly, as he stood from his chair setting something down beside it hardly within view.

Madrid eyed the object beyond Teague curiously until his captain stepped into view before it, forcing Madrid to let the matter lay.

"I believe that means you have a good reason or can I kill you now?"

Madrid smirked and teague stared him down.

"Actually, I'd rather not die if that's okay with you. I'm actually here on behalf of the crew."

"Oh Lord, what pleasure." Teague mocked as he turned away, and walked to the large heading for the mahogany cabinet on the wall opposite his desk. Upon arriving at it Teague opened the door and gazed inside like a prospector at gold.

"Drink?" Teague asked over his shoulder as he pulled a bottle out and examined it.

"Sure, I'd-"

"Well you can't have one." Teague replaced the bottle and pulled out another as Madrid furrowed his brow.

Turning the bottle in the flickering light of the nearby lamp he held the bottle securely in one hand for a few moments not saying a word. Finally Teague pulled it away from the light and closed the cabinet door, taking the bottle with him back to his chair.

"What was that all about?" Madrid couldn't help but ask as his captain sat, uncorking the bottle.

Teague looked up, not moving his head at all and stared hard at Madrid for seconds before he swished the pale golden liquid around in the bottle.

"Checking the spirits."

"How do you do that? How can you-"

Teague smirked. "It's me secret."

Madrid smirked and proceeded to open is mouth to ask when teague stopped him.

"Sit." He commanded rather lightly.

Madrid moved to the seat to the left of Teague, a few feet away and sat down. As he made himself comfortable Teague took a swig from the bottle and let a smile ghost his lips for a second, he had a talent for choosing spirits and he was blessed.

"Now..." Teague passed the bottle to Madrid and sat back comfortably. "You're here because... what was it?"

Madrid took a mouthful from the bottle and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before specking.

"The crew. It's been three days and none of us have seen you. The lads were worried you had fallen ill."

"Fallen ill? I've got enough spirits here to drown Henry VIII."

Madrid smirked and nodded. "That may be so but the ship needs it's captain."

"Abe has things under control."

"The man doesn't hold any respect for any of the crew. He's no idea how to be captain. You can't expect-"

"Oi! Just cause the man stole your sister don't-"

"I don't _have _a sister Teague."

"_Your mother_, there ain't much difference."

"He never-"

"Exactly! So stop getting your breeches in a twist. What ever your complaint it don't give you the right to undermine his authority."

Taking another mouthful Madrid held tight to the bottle and clenched his teeth.

"The man hates the lot of us, 'cept his mate Raul. He's letting his personal feelings cloud his judgement and he's not getting hell for it as we are."

"So it's injustice."

"Ney it's that blot having no right to man the ship when he doesn't want to be part of the crew." Madrid retorted.

"Gabriel is the quartermaster aboard my ship Madrid. And don't think it's cause of friendship. He has earned that position. When I met 'im he was a real nasty bugger, I 'nare thought he'd come this far but 'e has. You don't like 'im you deal with 'im yourself. I'm not stepping in till you to try and kill each other, you hear. And if you do you sure as hell that you don't mess up my ship. Remember law, you want to fight you'll have to wait until we find land." Teague replied in the same crude tone, making Madrid shrink back humbly being given a fair chance. "Now hand over the rum."

Madrid looked a the bottle, surprised, and handed it over. "That's rum. I thought it was vodka."

Teague scoffed. "The vodka I have is never offered to anyone. Never has and never will be. No this is rum."

"But it's light and sweet but hard. We've never had anything but pure golden rum on board. I don't even recall seeing any like this before."

"Doubt you will again too, unless you know where to look. It'll nock you flat far faster than the stuff I give you 'n the crew."

"That's why I've n'are seen it before?"

"You think I'd like a crew loaded on the stuff? You're always half lit with the other anyway, we'd all be dead if you's could get your hands on the spirits I have. Nay, they'll never get their hands on my stores."

Madrid smiled. That much was defiantly true. Madrid himself wasn't too much of a drinker, but he did like and enjoy rum it along with various exotic spirits. The crew on the other hand would always be drunk if they could have their way. The crew was loyal and wise but they were pirates- they still valued drink and pleasure nearly as high as gold a silver.

"So what are you doing in here 'sides drinking?"

Teague grumbled, watching Madrid roughly. The younger's muscles tightened slightly but otherwise remained as still as stone, showing his reluctance to back down. Teague read his eyes and saw the sincerity of the question, it was not sparked by the crew's interest or bribery- it was from the lad solely.

Whatever he felt, mainly the respect for the brash question, Teague chose to ignore it. He was a private person. He hated telling others anything unless necessary. He only grumbled and stood up, heading for the safety of his desk and mahogany chair.

"All a captain should."

Madrid smirked as Teague circled the desk and pulled out the chair. Turning his back to Teague, Madrid took another swig of rum and lowered the bottle slowly as his eyes fell upon Teague's vacant chair. Standing up slowly Madrid stood before the chair and remained as still as stone.

Across the room Teague's eyes flickered up from the papers on his desk and abruptly fell upon the man standing motionless across the room. He watched as Madrid slowly put down the bottle of rum and reached for the chair. Lifting his hand Teague closed his mouth as it opened. It was of no use. Madrid had picked up the guitar and caressed it's pale face gently as he slowly turned and faced teague sitting at the desk, waiting.

"I didn't know you played." Madrid grinned.

Teague cast him a look but did not reply. He shifted the papers before him and dipped his quill into the ink well, impartially, wiping the excess ink off onto it's brim then turning back to the papers.

"How long have you been playing?"

"Since I was fifteen."

Madrid arched his brow and smirked. Watching teague work for a moment, seemingly deep in thought Madrid thumbed the strings.

"So that would be how many years now?"

There was a silence before Teague's eyes raised and a dangerous smirk drew across his lips. Holding the stare for a moment teague looked back to the papers before him and continued writing, small tight lettering in beautiful black ink.

"'Case you didn't know, I ain't that stupid."

"Come on Teague- What difference is age on a Pirate ship? We're not noblewomen here, it doesn't matter. There's no secrets between us all." Madrid grinned slyly.

Teague dipped the quill into the ink once again and looked up to Madrid with cold intent.

"There are a hell of a lot of secrets aboard this ship, only none are kept from me."

"All are yours?"

Teague smirked and lowered his head, his hand moving back and forth rhythmically across the paper, dotting and slashing as it covered a few centimeters with tight neat handwriting. Madrid scanned the table only momentarily before he turned away again, with the guitar in his hands and stepped back to Teague's chair, placing the honey instrument in the deep chair to be admired from across the room. Pulling his hands away Madrid stood before the instrument, admiring it and it's beautiful craftsmanship as he turned and spoke over his shoulder.

"You any good?"

"Fifteen years till now, I would hope so." Came back a taunting voice causing a well deserved smirk to appear on the younger's face.

Madrid turned and faced Teague sitting back in his chair, the quill still resting between his fingers like a nobleman's beloved cigar.

"Now are you satisfied sailor?" He asked tauntingly.

Holding the grin, Madrid considered the question, and having a perfect comeback lined up for Teague's reply he nodded.

"That'll about do it I 'spose."

With a fake smile Teague waved him away like a pesky fly. "Good- go away."

With a chuckle Madrid crossed his arms over his chest and held his ground.

Teague's face grew solemn again as he watched the lad reluctant to leave.

"I'm serious- go away. You came and saw what you needed, I'm alive and I'm not going crazy- now go run back to your friends and spread the news."

Shaking his head Madrid slowly made for the door.

"You know it wasn't a matter of spreading tales that I came but out of concern. The men need their captain sir, especially now with us tracking the merchant vessel, we're going to need you out there when she's spotted. Gabriel can't oversee a task like taking a ship of that size."

"I never said I was going to give him command of my ship." Teague defended coldly. "Heed my words lad- when that ship's spotted I'll be right there, from the second she's spotted until the second all the loot from 'er is spent."

A smile crept onto Madrid's lips as he watched Teague, passionate about the upcoming battle won reward and the change of his ship.

Stopping at the entrance of the room Madrid gave Teague a nod.

"It's good to have you back captain."

Teague's jaw tightened as his eyes shined, waving at Madrid again he grumbled.

"Get out of here boy."

Madrid turned with a smile and directly left the cabin and captain, the later sitting behind his desk with a smirk on his lips and glint in his eye as he turned back to his work spread out the desk but eyed the guitar sitting invitingly across the room.


	10. A Captain's Dinner Party

Arabelle had had enough of this ship. Her night had gone from bad to worse in a few short hours. She could not believe the sense of such people, even her friend Captain Thuron. Men, gentleman and ladies alike, whom she had thought were honest, kind and modest individuals were shown to be complete fools and insensitive monsters. It had taken Arabelle an hour, a long and painful hour, to decide this. She and Mr. Bishop were not the only ones invited to the dinner but three other couples and two gentleman as well, including the horrible Mr. Caye. Arabelle had been placed next to Mr. Bishop, with his growing closeness to her, and Mrs. Cope, whom at first seemed to be a sane individual but soon displayed horrible character herself.

The other's of the party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Kennit, whom Arabelle tried ardently to avoid all evening but they seemed intent to be close to her, Mr. and Mrs. Vanderhoff, who were horribly flirtatious, Mr. and Mrs. Waternoose, Mr. Peters, and of course Captain Thuron.

There was not a bit of sanity since the first glass of wine had been drunk and Arabelle was dieing to exit the room. Not until Mr. Vanderhoff and Mrs. Waternoose were headlong lost in each other and Mrs. Vanderhoff screaming insults from across the room did Arabelle slip out of the room as Captain Thuron let out yet another chorus of dieing laughter as the party finally erupted into pure unmanageable pandemonium.

Arabelle could not take another moment of it and scurried to the door, bursting out of the cabin dieing for some cold air, space and quiet. Her eyes scanned the empty deck vigorously as she tried to find an escape. She wanted to be far from here before anyone found and dragged her in again. So hastily she made her way towards the hatch leading below deck hoping to secure a hiding spot yet again in her cabin when she was halted by a hand descending upon her shoulder.

Flinching Arabelle jumped and let out a shriek as she turned ready to strike, only to catch the innocent face of Laury leap away. Arabelle's hand flew to her mouth, gasping and sighing at the same time, and her other to her heart as she breathed a great sigh, trying to calm herself down.

"I'm sorry Laury, I.."

Pulling himself erect, out of the crumpled pose before her, Laury gave her an affectionate smile she had never seen on other than her brother's face and immediately Arabelle could not help but smile as well, strangely feeling a weight lifting off of her.

"No worries Miss. I didn't mean to frighten you, and I didn't think you'd hit."

"I didn't mean to Laury, I'm sorry. You just scared me that's all. I thought you were Bishop." Signing once again Arabelle wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and watched Laury grin.

"Nay, but I'm glad to see ye're not afraid to hit a gentleman. Most of 'em deserve it."

Arabelle smiled at this truth. "True, very true."

"But what's this miss, ye've had enough of such frolicking fun?" Laury asked with a serious face but a cold tone.

Arabelle knew exactly what he meant. "You've been to one I don't suppose."

"Aye, once too many." Laury replied honestly, scratching his head meditatively. "Captain has men in once and so for a drink or dinner if they've done very well. Never liked it much me'self. Once yeh get only a glass of the Captain's wine all hell breaks loose…oh, beg your pardon."

Arabelle shook her head. "No, I agree. And I can not believe it still. I could scarcely wait to get out of there. Can you believe what these people, thought of reputable people, are actually like?"

Laury grinned. "You gonna tell me some tales."

"You'd be up all night." Arabelle rolled her eyes and held herself tight. She looked the picture of disgust but Laury grinned giving her a shrug.

"I'm on the helm tonight, I've got time... and plenty of it. That's if you're wantin' to tell. I have a few gruesome stories myself."

Arabelle watched Laury for a moment, weighing the situation. Laury seemed suddenly very confident, and she liked it. Although she did miss his nervous, blushing conversation, she liked him growing more comfortable with her. It reminded her a great deal of Daniel. Grinning, for once on this journey felt like she was home.

She and her brothers did this often, sat up late and told stories made each other laugh and tease each other. She missed them, but somehow Laury, even being a complete stranger, reminded her of them. It made her feel safer amongst this ship and this sea. And she decided to follow through on such a luxury of normal conversation and good humour, even if it didn't seem necessarily proper. _Since when did she listen to rules? _So Arabelle nodded and Laury smiled.

"Good. I'll go relieve Thompson then."

Arabelle nodded and followed him up to the helm, where Laury took the helm from the other sailor and stood strong behind it as the man walked away, casting a wary glance at Arabelle and back to Laury on the way.

"I know the captain's occupied lad but watch yourself. He finds out there's been this kind of cavorting on deck your head'll be the next thing served on his table."

"Don't concern yourself Thompson." Laury replied coldly as Arabelle stepped back, away from the sailor's cold interested eyes.

"You know the rules lad, but it don't hurt me much to watch yeh sitting in the brig."

"To bed Thompson. If I get the brig it'll be when I deserve it." Laury stepped forward, extending his arm between Arabelle and the other man.

Arabelle was slightly glad for such protection from the scruffy sailor as stepped behind Laury. She felt exhausted from the so called dinner party and didn't feel enough strength at her disposal to reprimand or cut the opposing sailor. So she was glad for Laury being there, between them. Defending herself to a lady or gentleman seemed much easier than defending herself against a sailor or seaman. The old scruffy ones had always scared her, ever since she was a child, nothing had changed. She was still nervous and skittish around them, wary of what they could do. Most were very violent, brash, immodest men and she wanted nothing to do with them, especially to place herself somewhere within reach.

The sailor laughed huskily as he watched Arabelle then stepped back seeing Laury's face.

"You aimin' to challenge me lad over the likes of this girl? Hardly worth it I'd say." The other man frowned harshly, nearly towering over Laury but he held his ground.

Arabelle was surprised, he seemed far more confident and strong when faced with another man, a gruff sailor, than he did when faced with a delicate or smaller woman. Still she stood back and prepared for something to happen.

"You're a loyal man Thompson aren't yeh? You pride yourself on obeying the captain's every rule. As I recall there's one about passengers. Am I right?" Laury asked, sounding small but seeming mighty.

Thompson held Laury's stare for a long moment before he turned.

"Like I said, hardly worth it. Me and _her_." He grumbled and stomped down the stairs.

Both Laury and Arabelle didn't move until the man had disappeared below deck. And when he did Laury stepped back to the helm, straightened their course and turned to Arabelle, still a little shocked about his newly found courage.

"Sorry about Thompson. He always gets like that. You see he's the captain's quartermaster, nearly the captain's equal but far from it once he starts drinkin'. He's usually asked to attend the captain''s table when there's guests but tonight he was left out. When he is he drinks and becomes what you just saw. He is usually very good." Laury explained kindly.

Arabelle nodded, still slowed heavily and stepped forward to stand next to Laury at the helm.

"What did you mean when you mentioned a rule about passengers?"

Laury looked at her for a moment then turned away, surveying the few men working below.

"Every ship needs rules to keep the men in line. But even more rules are needed when there are passengers on board, especially with this crew."

"What kind of rules? Certainly there hasn't been problems… has there?"

Laury shrugged. "Ney, not recently, but there's been stories. You see mostly all the rules deal with us as sailors but none can be helped when there are to sides. Mainly all of us are not to touch a passenger or we'll be punished accordingly."

"Your not allowed to touch a passenger?" Arabelle asked, raising an eyebrow. "That seems a bit odd, don't you think?"

"Ney, it's pretty clear, or at least when we're told it it is. You see not touching a passenger can cover many problems. It's mainly for getting into skirmishes with passengers and injuries being issued, but it also deals with some of the men's fascination with the upper class ladies- if you understand."

"Too much." Arabelle sighed. "From what I could see tonight the captain seems unconcerned with his own rules."

"The captain!" Laury exclaimed then laughed at his misdirected shock. Arabelle smiled at him as he turned to her.

"I suppose I'm not as shocked as I should be. The captain seems to do as he pleases, like all men drink truly affects him, but he will not give it up no matter the damage it does to his reputation. He is a kind man, don't think less of him, but it is the life that does not make men _gentlemen_."

"Not all gentlemen are ideal." Arabelle warned.

"I have seen as much. Why are you so keen on their company? No disrespect intended, but I meant as a whole, all women."

Arabelle shook her head angrily.

"I have no intent on attaching myself to any man, let alone a gentleman. I have no idea, besides money and good looks, that any woman would attach herself to such a brute person either."

"You mean, you're not-" Laury looked at her in shock and she grimaced.

"No. Mr. Bishop was entirely Mr. and Mrs. Radford's idea. I have no interest in such a thing. I was forced to spend the day and evening with him at their wishes and I sorely hated it."

"I'm sorry. I did not know or I would have done something." Laury relied softly, looking away with a look of injustice on his face.

"It's not your fault, nore do I blame you. You have been a good friend these past weeks, I shall miss you as I do all my friends when I leave. But you mustn't worry yourself. I am capable to care for myself, even if it doesn''t seem so. I know how to fend for myself and I shall when needed. I am sure Mr. Bishop will have no interest in me after tonight and I pray he will act rightly upon recovering."

"Recovering?"

Arabelle winced at the sound of pleasure in Laury's voice, she turned to him with a smile and he grinned.

"Oh I believe this entails a story."

Arabelle chuckled. "Not much is there to tell, only that tonight I made it clear that there was no return of his affections. And by his speech and his actions he made it clear that beyond the shallowest of affections he felt nothing for me. This gave me great happiness that I nearly enjoyed myself and joined them if it hadn't been for Mr. Caye."

"Mr Caye?"

Arabelle nodded and gripped the railing replying angrily. "A friend of Mr. Bishop's and the very definition of an abominable man."

"Has he wronged you? If he has-"

"Please, you are sounding like my brothers. He has not wronged me. Humiliated me _yes_, but he has not touched me. If he had I would have let you deal with him, if there had been any left after I was finished that is."

Laury could not hold back a smile at this.

Arabelle was a very strange girl, he could not deny that but she reminded him of his youngest sister, Rebecca, for she was as spiteful and strong-minded as she. Loving adventure novels more than dinners and anger more that peace. Whether Arabelle was the exact same as Rebecca Laury would have to wait and see but she truly did make it seem so. And this was why Laury was beginning to feel more comfortable around her. Besides her looks and ability to make him blush and fumble she was just like his beloved little Becky.

"I do not doubt he would never cross you again with talk like that." Laury grinned and Arabelle gave him a smile.

"I would pray he wouldn't. Why do you always seem to want to humiliate women? Men in general, that is." She replied, asking such a question to reply to his previous one in likeness.

Laury grinned and rubbed his chin.

"Using me words too clearly Miss."

Arabelle smiled but did not relent.

"I can't answer for all men, but I can for me. I have far too many sisters to know when to stop pressing a lady. 'Specially Becky, she makes it clear when to stop."

"You never mentioned any siblings before, why not?"

"I suppose it's cause it makes me think of home and miss them all that much more. I have four sisters and one brother. All are younger 'cept one, Marion. Up and married with two youngling's of her own she is and far away too."

"Where does she live?"

"On the coast of Jamaica. In a new colony called Port Royal. Married a young naval officer 'bout five years ago and adores the life. She's the most well off of us all, but we don't mind, she's happy and we all are. Miss her but she won't come home."

"Where's your home?"

"Me parents came from Ireland but I was born in England along with the rest of me sisters and brother."

"You still live there?"

"When I'm not here upon the sea, which ain't much. I visit when I can. What about you? Here I've been answering all your questions, don't you think I should get a turn."

Arabelle laughed gently and smiled.

"very well, do your worst. But you will soon see that I will not answer any questions I do not wish to, and there will be no changing my mind."

"We'll see." Laury smiled just as threateningly and proceeded, feeling just like he was playing with Becky once again. "You live in England?"

"No. I have been for the past few years but no, I do not."

"Where do you live?"

"Currently on this ship, after… I'm not sure."

"You have no plans? No destination?"

"No, actually I do not."

Laury furrowed his brow and frowned. He did not understand. What did a girl like this have to be uncertain about? Surely there was a suitor waiting for her, a lucky man worth her affection and one waiting to care for and love her. Why was she so hesitant about the future. Then again, maybe she just did not want to tell him.

"Oh, I see. You do not want to tell me, is that it?" he asked with a smart grin but Arabelle did not smile.

"Actually no. I am up for nearly anything that comes my way short of making myself unhappy. I am as free as the next gull that should grace our sight. I have no plans for the future and no idea what I should do with myself and I am quite happy with the thought."

"Do you mind me asking why? Every lady has a thousand wants but you… don't seem to have any."

"Oh I do have wants but mine simply do not exists to be granted."

"How could that be so?"

Arabelle shook her head. "I would rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

Laury was silent. He could see the sadness creep across her eyes and knew she was not jesting. He nodded silently and kept to his work manning the helm.

"For what it's worth… I thought you looked beautiful tonight, even if Bishop was such a fool not to see it." Laury said softly against the wind.

"I'm sorry?" Arabelle inquired.

Laury turned to her, she had not heard and she was waiting for an answer. He shook his head, biting his tongue.

"Nothing."


	11. Ship on the Horizon

Morning broke just as Teague stepped onto the sparr deck. The crew had not yet risen and Teague was thankful for the three crewmen working away steadily, oblivious to their captain now present. Teague enjoyed times like this- when the men had their own work they were concerned with and they had matters in their own hands, when they were all busy, and not asking him questions or casting him curious looks.

Teague walked past the helm and smiled gently. It was vacant but the wheel was held straight with a strong rope looped over a grip to hold the ship's course without a man having to stand and guide it. A trick Teague had picked up from Captain Lee, the first decent captain he had served under- the one who turned him to piracy and given him his first ship, many years ago.

Teague was about to remove the rope and take the wheel himself, when something caught his eyes off the starboard side, ahead of the ship a few leagues.

Shifting his eyes, Teague looked out into the grey morning light. Waiting, Teague reached into his jacket and pulled out his spyglass. Looking out into the dawn, he searched the horizon but found nothing but shadows and darkness; nothing out of the ordinary. Lowering the spyglass from his eye, he continued to look beyond the ship into the darkness, curious, feeling things were not as they appeared.

And then- there it was again- a flicker of light. Quickly Teague raised the spyglass to his eye and looked for the light. It was once again gone but now a shadow remained. Teague grinned.

Closing the spyglass firmly in his hand, Teague turned on his heel and walked to the helm, threw the line off of it and turned the wheel to starboard.

"Grant- douse those morn lamps. Lower the mainsail, Johnson, Watson help him and be quick about it!" Teague commanded loudly from the helm. The men chorused '_aye captain_' in reply and set about to work, but only Grant dared to linger. Did you mean quiet or quick here, since Teague is being loud himself?

" 'ave we spotted 'her sir?" he called from near the main mast.

"What?" Teague was rather surprised the man was still standing there and not scurrying around to obey him, but he didn't let such a small thing annoy him, not now as it should have.

"The merchant vessel sir... the one we're after."

Teague grinned, seeing all three men facing him now, from where they were either simply standing there or working.

"Aye, we spotted her."

All three men grinned and cheered.

"Shall I wake the crew, sir?" Watson, the closest to the hatch asked, but Teague shook his head.

"We're not takin' 'er. Not yet, lads. Just follow me orders and we'll see that you get the choice of the loot."

This made the men very pleased and they went quickly about their work, again after issuing a very joyful '_aye captain_'. Teague again looked over starboard as the two men climbed the rigging and released the ties holding the mainsail furled. With a swift swosh of canvass the sail dropped full length, nearly ten feet above the deck and immediately was caught by the wind and billowed out, launching the ship forward. Teague again found it hard to keep his eyes upon the shadow several leagues of the starboard side, but he knew it was there. Turning once again to port slightly, Teague reached down and retrieved the securing line. Lashing it soundly to the helm, he let go and turned away, once he was sure it was held fast.

Teague quickly made his way down to the deck and met Grant at the starboard side as he grabbed the line securing the billowing sail. They had just grabbed the line as Watson and Johnson grabbed the line on the larboard side and started to heave. Grant didn't say anything as Teague arrived at his side and took the line along side him. He only smiled and nodded to his captain and began to heave, pulling the line with all his might as Teague did the same.

Moments later the sail was taunt, still full of wind and pushing the ship along swiftly, and Grant tied the line to the notch on the railing as Johnson did the same on the other side. Watson left his mate to finish the work as he joined Teague and Grant who had begun issuing more orders about tying an odd rope or two.

Teague again scanned the horizon and caught sight of the ship as the morning sun slowly began to light the sky. The ship was ahead of them a few leagues and off to their right, but it was in the perfect position for tracking.

"Orders, sir?" Watson asked as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand and Johnson came up behind him. Teague faced the men but then quickly looked at their prize leagues away. It had been far too long.

"Rouse the crew, men!" he commanded, recapturing his captain's composure and returning to the stern, commanding tone with menace in his voice.

"We're here."

Teague turned and found several men, a good part of the remaining crew, yawning and wiping their tired eyes but ready and eager, more or less, for work. Madrid stood before them, rolling up his sleeves, seemingly more awake than the lot.

"We missed a bit I see," he grinned fleetingly.

Teague could see his eyes connecting with the galleon upon the distant hazy horizon and railed to reply. Instead he turned to the idle crew and threw orders to each cluster of men, sending them to work, eager to get under way, as the others were to _gain spoil_.

When Teague turned away from the steady working crew, Madrid still stood before him waiting.

"Find Abe, Bas and Raul. Bring 'em all to my cabin, you too. We've got some things to discuss."

"Aye, Captain," Madrid nodded meekly and left the deck, returning below deck without a single protest.

Teague turned back to the men working away, smoothly amongst the ship, casually looking up once again and keeping their eyes on the ship they were shadowing beautifully. Teague turned then to Hunter, just relieving Watson at the helm.

"Keep 'er back, lad. Stay in 'er shadow, keep 'er in sight but us out of hers. I don't want us seen till we want to be seen."

"Aye, sir," Hunter called back, and Teague turned, satisfied the crew was in order. He was confident in the boy's ability to handle the ship, and left the deck, disappearing into his cabin to wait for Madrid to return with the others.

An hour later Teague was still trapped within his cabin, surrounded by the four other men, who had since been joined by Samuel- the old and frail chart-master. Basile stood by the furthest wall in the shadows, barely speaking unless bidden by his captain. Abe held his spot across from Teague strongly in the comfortable chair. Samuel sat next to Teague on the other side of the desk, cleaning his spectacles, his fingers always shaking slightly. Raul stood off to Abe's left and offered help quiet frequently, not even halting when it meant cutting another off... such as Basile. Madrid, lastly, sat far from the desk like Basile, the only difference was Madrid sat on a deep chair's arm rest with his feet on the seat and his arms hanging off his bent knees. Madrid was the only one allowed to do this, anyone else would be wiped. And he, like Basile, hardly said a word but his eyes scanned the room and its occupants continuously.

Teague talked as long as needed, mainly letting the other bicker amongst themselves but correcting when necessary. However, Teague didn't say much besides their course of action. He spent the near entire morning sitting at the desk letting his mind block out the cursing and bickering going on around him. Finally, not being able to take anymore, he dismissed Abe and Raul and waited for them to leave.

Abe looked at Teague questioningly a moment and then turned to the two men lurking in the shadows behind him. Turning back to Teague, Abe nodded and silently left the room followed by Raul, knowing best not to question his orders. Samuel never moved, he had not been asked or hinted at to leave so he dabbed his nose with a rag from his pocket and looked from Teague to the shadows in the corner.

Teague grunted and sat back in his chair comfortably. Not saying a word still, the four of them all remained silent until Samuel rustled some papers before him, looking to Teague like an impatient father.

"Speck up lad, we can't read yer mind."

Teague turned to the old man and cracked a tame grin, which was impossible to hide between friends.

"Me alegro mucho."

Samuel grunted and Teague turned to Basile, still on the other side of the room with Madrid.

"What's wrong with you two?" he asked gruffly.

"It's hard to get any reply in edgewise with your ankle biter hovering over every word," Madrid offered offhand.

Basile turned immediately and scowled at Madrid, but the man was unaffected.

"Don't look at me like that, Bas. You were thinkin' it too."

"Aye, but one of us has the sense to keep our mouth shut," he grumbled back.

Teague smirked and both men turned, as if they had heard his lips curling, and watched Teague expectantly. Madrid didn't move, but Basile shifted from his left to right foot and massaged a fist in his opposite hand.

"I have an idea that you don't like _my choice _of Quartermaster."

"We don't necessarily-"

A shallow grunting cough caused Teague to shift in his seat and look across his shoulder to the old man beside him. Teague slowly opened his hand before him, motioning for the man to speak. Samuel gave a shallow nod and spoke as bidden.

"I don't pretend to know little about piracy, seeing that I prefer to separate myself from such acts and life of as you all seem to favor, but as I recall a Quartermaster is chosen by the _crew_, _not _the captain."

Madrid raised his brow and smirked.

"So there's hope."

Basile shook his head and Teague smirked again, eyes shining as he watched the brash young sailor.

"You're right," Teague said, turning from Samuel to the other men in the room. "Well lads, if you don't like the man it's up to you to find another."

"That's easy. _Bas_." Madrid motioned to the giant man and grinned.

"What?" Basile grunted.

"You're prefect, 'sides Teague trusts you," Madrid defended.

Basile looked to Teague. Teague only remained silent, giving him a questioning stare. Teague was not much one to talk when the situation didn't call for it. He prepared to let others come to their own conclusions, solve their own problems and leave him out of it. Although he was very wise and knowledgeable he didn't flaunt it.

"I'm happy how I am. I've no need to be master," Basile replied, humble as he was. "Thanks for the thought, lad but nay. I'll be happy to serve any trusted man under Teague, but I've no desire to be in da position."

"If you don't want the job, who should have it?" Madrid asked, then turned to the man on Teague's left. Samuel caught his eye and shook his head.

"Don't even open your mouth lad."

"But who are we-"

"_You _won't decide and I don't want to hear another suggestion. You don't like who's in charge I'll be fair." Teague interjected, his voice curt but generous. "Rally enough men to vote, either for or 'gainst, and see where that takes yeh. I'm not giving you any more than that, but you best have a good reason to share on Marshal's dismissal as master when the time calls for it. Now that's all. If any of you want your share of plunder I suggest you haul yourselves out of my cabin and get back to work. Now!"

Madrid stood and Basile nodded, leading the way out the door while offering a respectful nod of acknowledgment for Teague on the way.

Samuel watched the two men leave as Teague bent over the papers on his desk. Only when the door had closed did Samuel turn to Teague. He could see the exhaustion creased in the young man's face and the constant frustration and strain in his eyes and felt dystopian.

He knew Teague back when he was on the _Indigo Princess_, back when he was just a boy; A boy who told tales and smiled. Samuel knew Teague the best on the crew and he felt it his place to, figuratively, _kick him _when needed. Now was the time.

"You know they're only doing as they should, Edward."

Teague didn't move; he only drew his fingers across a small line on the map before him and remained silent, like a child.

"You shouldn't be so harsh with everyone, it's making you ill within. I can see it."

That was when Teague's muscles tightened. He had always been kind and comfortable with this gentle old man, but he was tired of people's '_advice for him_' and sideways looks. Most of all he was tired of the feelings within himself, but it was no place for another to tell him what to do. So Teague tightened his jaw, without looking at the frail old man. The venom could be heard dripping from his tongue, any trace of friendship instantly was gone from his eyes as if it had never been there before.

"I will say and do as I like. I am captain and I warn you not to cross me. I can and _will _have you or any other justly punished without question. Is that clear?" he said gruffly, and Samuel straightened in his chair. Staring at Teague hard, he mirrored the cold look.

A painfully long moment passed between the two men, neither backing down. But finally Samuel relented, letting out a hard breath he held teague's eyes and answered the captain's command unexpectedly... in the tone of a father answering to a betraying son,

"Yes, captain."

"Now get out."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Arabelle awoke the next mourning to shouting. Laying in bed, she drew her hand across her face, mumbling obscenities to quiet down as she pushed her head further into the pillow. Proving unhelpful Arabelle, groaning, turned over to face the wall and hit her fist against it four times.

"Some of us are trying to sleep! Please quiet down over-"

Three abrupt knocks at the door caused Arabelle turn to it groggily. Blinking hard, she gave a surprised pout to the door and wiped her face again.

"Who is it?" she called, slurring the odd word together. The late night she had spent previously talking with Laury, accompanied by the wine from dinner, was still recking havoc on her fatigued wracked brain.

"It's me, please open the door," a voice called back.

Arabelle sighed peevishly, still having no idea who it was, for it could quite possibly be anyone, and dragged herself up, out of bed and towards the door. Fumbling with the lock for a few moments, cursing under her breath, and finally succeeding in turning the doorknob, she pulled the door open a few feet and stuck her head out. With a swift motion however she didn't stand there very long. As soon as her door was opened her visitor, kindly enough, pushed their way through and slammed the door behind him as Arabelle stumbled back.

As she jumped back, Arabelle became awake immediately and prepared to defend herself. That however, was not necessary because the second her visitor turned, facing her, her jaw dropped along with her steady hands.

"Laury! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed.

"I came to warn you about the-" Laury's eyes dropped and quickly he turned around.

Following his eyes Arabelle looked down at herself and rolled her eyes. Sometimes Laury was far too modest and honourable for her liking. Although he was only doing what was right, Arabelle didn't understand what the fuss was about, seeing her clad in a nightgown. However, she moved to her trunk, pulled out her dressing gown and threw it on, tying it firmly around her as fast as she could. Turning back to Laury, she tapped him on the shoulder, quite anxious to get back to matters at hand.

"Laury! Turn around for heaven sake, I've got my dressing gown on. And if that's not modest enough, well I beg your pardon but it's going to have to be." She said, a touch peevishly, as Laury turned to face her quite bashfully.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, nor barge into your cabin, I-" he replied timidly, trying to avoid looking at her for too long for fear of his blush worsening.

"Wait a minute. Did you say _warn me? _About what? What's going on?" Arabelle interrupted forgetting the previous distractions as she recalled Laury's previouse statement.

Laury ran his hand through his dishevelled hair and frowned waving her off, as he grew quite comfortable in her presense once again.

"Nothing yet. They've spotted a ship shadowing us and the captain's ordered all passengers to remain below. It's standard procedure for-"

"What kind of ship? And what kind of procedure is-"

"We don't know yet, it's still too far behind. The captain isn't saying much, but this is for your own safety."

"Is that right?" Arabelle snapped back briskly. "That's what my parents said when they sent me away. I have had quite enough of people looking out for my safety thank-"

"The captain has things well in hand," Laury interrupted gently, trying not to provoke her any more than necessary. " He know's what he's doing. We're keeping _all _passengers below, not just you, so you mustn't take it personally. I have to be back at my post, but... I promise nothing bad will happen. It's probably just another merchant ship."

"A merchant ship? Honestly, Laury, you and I both know merchant vessels never travel this way. It could be anything. The navy, marauders, freemen, a merchant ship yes- but it could also be pirates."

Laury frowned and clenching his jaw he stepped towards the door.

"_Whatever _it is, you'll be safe as long as you stay below."

Arabelle looked away peevishly; she hated being confided.

"You must listen to the captain, Miss Sparrow," Laury ordered tenderly, knowing her thoughts.

"I am not a sailor, Laury." Arabelle replied in the same gentle tone, but with a touch of arrogance as she faced him. "You _are_, and he is your captain... he is not mine."

Laury was silent. Meeting her eyes he held her stare then stepped back and put his hand on the doorknob.

"Don't leave your cabin until I come and get you. It's an order."

Arabelle clenched her jaw and held her ground. Stepping forward, Arabelle opened her mouth but Laury moved quickly through the door, shutting it behind him as she stepped to the threshold. Angry, Arabelle turned swiftly and threw her back up against the door.

_What right did he have to speak to her that way? And in such a manner. She was not a child and she was not a sailor. She had every right to be out. On her brother's ships she had always been up and about when they met with other ships, even when they had met with the navy, who frowned about having women on board ships. She could not think of one time she had been sent below... _

Arabelle looked up, across her modest cabin and out the porthole at the bright morning through the glass. Pulling her dressing gown tight around her, Arabelle closed her eyes tight.

That was not true. There had been one instance. She had been very young, and she vaguely remembered it, but there was one face imprinted upon her memory. The man, captain he called himself of a ship full of Turkish villains, that had fought his way onto her brother's ship, even after a surrender was given. The man had been dark, in appearance and character, the kind of man any child would live in fear of.

Arabelle did not remember the events that followed his boarding the _Nautica,_ but she did remember the door of the galley opening and Daniel walking through calling for her. She had hidden under one of the tables and ran out once she heard him, only to find him sweaty, cut and bruised with a long deep gash along his left cheek.

They were safe, but many didn't survive. They had bested the other ship, but the remainder of the crew had taken the ship and fled, and Daniel not being one for revenge nor attacking the unprotected, let them flee. Arabelle on the other hand, gave her, much elder brother, a sound lashing for doing such a thing. Daniel only laughed and brought her back to his cabin as he cleaned himself up, getting help from his baby sister to bandage up the wound on his face as he told her the very abbreviated and rated version of what had happened. And then all she remembered were the days that followed. How much the men changed, how wiser and calmer Daniel became, their parents when they returned home, and how her mother had cried over the story and their father slapping Daniel on the back for his courage and strength.

It had ended well, but it had been a chance, a chance Arabelle rather wished not to take again... especially without Daniel here to be her hero as he had been thousands of times before, from saving her life on the high seas to recovering her rag doll from a puddle or the family dog.

Arabelle hugged herself tightly and dropped her eyes to the floor as she opened them. She mustn't think of him. She mustn't think fo Daniel, not now. She had no time to wallow in grief, grief she had hardly accepted since it was told. She had to focus on now, her life and her journey. It would not help her to miss Daniel or wish he was with her, she must protect herself... she needed to be her own hero.

'_You're no hero, Belle,'_ she muttered to herself as she walked to her cot. '_You couldn't save yourself if your life depended on it.'_

Arabelle bit her lip and pulled off her dressing gown.

"Well, I could never be dressed like this could I?" she shot back. Stopping, she rolled her eyes.

'_Great, Belle, now your talking to yourself. Are you that desperate?' _

Shaking her own voice from her head, Arabelle turned to her trunk and dug through it for her brown dress. With a dropped waist, elbow length sleeves and a swooping neckline it was comfortable, and manageable... just in case anything happened.

'_Not that it will,'_ she remained herself curtly.

In her experience, she found it was better to be prepared than caught off guard. Being surprised could cost you your life... that she knew of all to well.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Interpretation: "Me alegro mucho." Is Spanish for "I am very glad" a little subtle humor on Teague's part and a glimpse into his background. I hope you like it so far. I know it's kind of long and pretty deep with detail but I'm trying a new avenue of writing- everyone else writes nearly only dialogue but I want this to be real. I mean do people actually talk that much? Keep the reviews coming!


	12. Two Lookouts

:Sorry about the incredibly unfair delay. As with most everyone else school has been creating great delays in the time I have allotted for writing. With exams over things should return to normal now.

Here is a chapter long over due. Much needed Teague in this one, a little history as well but there will definatly be more of that on the way. Also included are two of my newest favorites, Basile and Madrid. With them so different I love focusing on them, showing just how unique and full of heart Teague's crew really is.

In the next chapter there will be more Arabelle and Laury, as well as a topic a few of you have been wondering about. Please let me know how you like the characters. I promise it won't be long before Arabelle meets the infamous captain- then we'll see what she's really made of.

* * *

Teague burst forth from his cabin moments behind Samuel, his eyes burning with intensity. The men jumped into action, taking this as a sign for battle. Many cast glances at each other and grinned, counting on this attitude from their captain to be a vigorous and sorely hid lust for action and reward. Something that they too were coveting- the moment of action. But sadly they were very wrong.

Instead of excitement shining forth from his eyes it was anger, cold cruel anger fuelling his thoughts and actions. No longer did Teague want to raid this merchant ship for spoils, he wanted to destroy something, _kill _someone. He wanted the rush of adrenaline, he only felt in battle, surging through his veins. The rapid, blind strategic genius that surfaced during heated battle and merely, he wanted everyone to leave him be.

Teague was tired of people telling him what to do, advising his actions and steering his thoughts for him. And battle seemed the only time this didn't happen. He had gained the respect of his crew, either with knowledge or with strength and this brought a degree of fear for him. Fear that deterred many from coming to him personally with questions or opinions. This is what he craved- solitude.

However even though he had been alone for most of his life, drifting from place to place, doing many different jobs there had always been that voice behind him warning him to take it easy, be carful or care about the consequences. Whether this voice belonged to a gentle old man or a caring mother they all irked Teague. And although Teague, always, had suppressed such emotions it was this well meaning comment from Samuel that broke his emotional repression. Finally all the anger came out instantly, from all those years of surprising it.

Teague was tired but he pushed himself on. Carrying himself up the stairs to the sparr deck confidently he grabbed the wheel from the man standing by and he scanned the deck but focussed on the ship ahead of them.

"Drop canvass!" He yelled to the men awaiting below.

With the crew jumping into action Teague looked up at the sky and the sun's position, just dipping below the highest point in the sky. _Perfect_, he thought. Looking back to the ship a few leagues, he yelled general orders randomly at the closest man and steadied his grip on the helm as the main sail dropped with a great _swoosh_, pulling the ship gradually to new speeds.

Teague's eyes narrowed on the ship ahead, nothing more than a blue smudge riding the waves caressing the horizon. Finally they would get their glory, their booty, and after that... Teague grimaced. After that Teague would come up with something new, but that was after.

* * *

A short hour passed as Teague held fast his position at the helm, barking at any who got too close, and keeping his eyes locked upon their target with intense acuity. His job as captain made it his duty to be ignorant of the fact that every man upon his vessel would have their eyes locked to the nearing vessel. He needed to hold fast to his position at the helm, ready to sound any needed commands at the slightest change in winds, direct or possibly a change of strategy when the situation called for it. And because of this Teague's eyes never left the growing smudge until he could make out each sail dimension and the colour of the flag without his spy glass. By that time all the men kept to the deck, leaving even Samuel to vacate the Sparr deck as Teague's mood grew ever as turbulent as the waves carrying them, most unlike any other boarding mission any of the men had witnessed. But, that was not the only subject of unrest that spread uncomfortably throughout the crew, for it was also that time that Gabriel saw fit to brave an audience with his unsettled captain and pose some uncertain worries to the upcoming action.

"You sure it's 'er Teague?" Gabriel asked breaking the silence surrounding Teague that had given way to a multitude of private brooding thoughts.

Teague turned to the man and scanned the scene of Gabriel off to his left and, unimpressed to be interrupted, turned back to the task at hand with as much curtness as if the man had been the daftest idiot in all of England's dominion.

"It's her alright." Teague replied in a low tone, unheard by the inquisitor, who continued to voice his worrisome opinions.

"We've come 'cross many-a vessels like 'is. She's fit for thirty guns, 'spose she's just runnin' a blank jack. _We _do it hundreds o-times, run a Spanish roger or a French. 'spose we're fallin' for 'or own trick."

Teague rubbed his fingers together as they hung over the helm, as if testing the grit of his always rough calloused skin and frowned harshly.

"You're thinking too much." Teague grumbled, his voice low and icy, turning his head and looking down from his shoulder with clear dark menacing eyes.

"Aye Sir."Gabriel lowered his head meekly and waited a moment, struggling in earnest to suppress his worry for the Captain's sudden and inopportune moment to act rashly, as Teague turned back to the scene ahead.

On the rare occasion like this, when Teague was the most distant and troubled it was always the times that he acted the most dangerous, rashly and some might consider it to be the most stupid. Gabriel knew this, he could sense when teague lost sleep and inched further to the dark callous mood he saw before him, but he hardly ever voiced his opinion like this before. Before the crew's lives had not been involved, Gabriel's life hadn't been in jeopardy.

Clenching his jaw Gabriel looked about him as he grasped his hands before him, rather nervously clutching his opposite wrist as he shifted from foot to foot. Finally Abe couldn't handle it and nearly leapt forward with the words that next left his lips.

"Well what if she's true. I know ye don't 'lieve it but it could be 'nother free vessel. Even if she was the merchant ship we don't 'ave the men to take a thirty gun ship, nore the guns to disable 'er. And if we get too close, she'll o'rpower us. We'll be jumpin' from the pan to the fire Teague- you of all people know-"

Teague turned nearly as suddenly as Abe opened his mouth, drying the man's tongue to sand within seconds. All it took was Teague's eyes to fell upon Gabriel, immediately, making him choke back his words.

"She's the Mary Eliza. She's a merchant ship from England, not a man of war- least not the guns fit for one. Aye, she may put up a fight but she's loaded with passengers not militia. She's no tricks hidden in 'er skirts, she's ours."

"But-"

"I've made my decision Mr. Marshal. We take _this _ship. ...weather's it's freeman, militia or merchant vessel. You are quartermaster not captain. And until you rise to the position you will follow my orders exactly or you'll hang from 'er, or any ship's, crippled bow as I see the vessel sunk. "

Teague stood fast, his pitch gravelly and as rough as cut glass. Abe didn't dare move as Teague watched him so intensely, he only cast his eyes down like a young man faced with his superior, which he knew would always be the case when he was faced with Teague.

"Understood Mr. Marshal?"

"Aye sir, every word." Abe echoed turning to face Teague's icy glare with a confident one of his own.

Teague turned, as harsh and unpleasant as ever and took the helm again under his rough unforgiving grip surprised to hear the once cowardly man becoming more confident before his eyes.

* * *

Several feet above, within the billowing sails of the Ash Bough Madrid hung, frowning at the tensing situation below. He had not been long employed with Captain Teague but he had been gracing it's rigging long enough to know when something was dangerously amiss.

Hanging silently, letting the wind blow him to a fro with the sails he watched Teague standing at the helm, deadly solemn and cold as the other crewmen avoided him like the plague and Marshal now cautiously making his way down the stairs away from Teague and back to the anxious crew waiting below.

Madrid had to give Abe credit for braving Teague's mood but he shook his head at the time he had picked. Sometimes the man was very smart, but other times he was the daft nervous man that was avoided.

Madrid had heard every word hovering above them unnoticed and he had sided with Teague silently the entire discussion but Marshal had raised a few questions Madrid wasn't very comfortable with. Never had their been doubts in his mind about Teague's orders, Teague's wisdom but Marshal's questions made him uneasy. He had nothing to loose, that much was true, but dying unprepared was not a thought he relished.

Teague asked everyone who entered the employ of the crew that question, if they were prepared to die for the ship, crew and captain. And Madrid, always one for adventure and excitement, had never hesitated at the question but wasn't sure what would happen now if Marshal would suddenly have a problem with this.

Turning himself upright Madrid let the thought drift to the back of his mind as he pulled himself up, still half-wound around a long length of rigging nearly always hanging from around him. And hand over hand, he pulled himself upwards through the sails invisible to all below him to busy to notice the young man's amazing strength and swiftness.

Once through the large mainsail Madrid swung, rocking himself back and forth from the middle of the mainsail and up to the top rib, which he landed on perfectly without so much as one waver.

Looking up Madrid's eyes fell on Basile, once again manning the crows nest, dead center of the sail he stood upon. Basile was ten feet across the sail, Madrid knew this without thinking and without any falter Madrid extended his hands slightly out at his sides and glanced from Basile to the four inch wide rib he stood upon.

A grin played across Basile's lips as he watched the young Madrid, as easily as swaggering across a deck, swiftly make his way across the sail's narrow rib towards him, where he then leapt over the railing of the nest, landing soundly on the plank bottom with a muffled thud.

Basile crossed his large arms over his chest and smirked, as he leaned back against the railing, watching as Madrid loosened the tangling rope about him.

"Da men say you should purchase yourself a pair of wings da way you go 'bout up here." he grinned. "I 'hink 'dey'd slow ya down."

Madrid smirked half-heartedly as he threw the rope from the nest, tangling it around another suspended rope several feet down as if he had intended to. When he faced the giant again his teasing smile was gone and replaced by a brooding frown.

"What's awry?"

Madrid wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, induced from the huge scorching sun hanging above them, and sighed. Even the breeze was hot, but Madrid didn't complain- at least not to Basile. Basile had been in far hotter climates on his travels, besides he would only ignore his whining so Madrid left his frivolous anxieties to be carried off in the wind and focused on more important things.

"I'm worried about the captain."

As if hitting a nerve Basile's eyes grew dark and his body stiffened. Madrid knew it was a fool's errand to talk badly about Teague around Basile but it was also only Basile who could do more for teague than anyone else, besides Simal that is.

"Teague? What for?" Basile snapped, glancing down to where Teague stood, unbeknownst of the conversation going on about him fifty feet above.

"He's getting worse by the minute. I think there's something more than sleep ailing him this time." Madrid confessed as he looked towards the target ship.

Basile followed his eyes, but looked back anxiously.

"Ye think it's somethin' to do with da ship we be after?"

"Ney. If it was we'd have taken it already or left it. Teague doesn't waste time on decisions. I don't know what it is."

Basile pondered this for a moment and rubbed his jaw.

"I wish I knew what it was." Madrid murmured and Basile watched him suspiciously.

"How do ye even know somethin's wrong?"

"Where have you been these past few days?"

"What, everythin's fine."

"Really? First, Teague locked himself within his cabin for three days without so much as showing his face once, then he suddenly appears and takes over command aggressively as if they were going straight to war. Now we're here just waiting, following a shadow. If we were going to take the ship it would have been done hours ago. How can you say there's nothing wrong about that? Maybe we could talk Teague into pulling by Mozambique. He's always himself when he and-"

Basile scoffed. "What would ye suggest- teague move in with Simal and his family? Lad the two were freinds for years but teague isn't goin' settel for no one."

Madrid frowned. "I don't mean stay, just have Simal talk to 'im."

Basile shook his head. "Simal was 'is first mate and best friend for years but it don't mean 'e can help things, 'sides this 'appens once in a while, to be sure, with everyone. It's 'nare been like this... exactly but 'e's a lot to deal with. Calm yourself lad. He's just a lot on 'is mind. Take it easy on 'im."

"A lot on his mind? Like what would be effecting his life so-"

"He's been alone too long, he's getting tired." Basile snarled in warning.

Madrid stared hard at Basile, frowning as he can to grips with the point Basile was making.

"Are you saying Teague is lonely?"

Basile snarled, at Madrid's brazen reply, with a look so dark that Madrid felt his heart beat quicken.

"Leave it boy. I ain't sayin' anything for or 'gainst Teague and ye best not mention a word 'o this or I'll cut off ye thumb. Then we'll see how good ye can climb."

Madrid was silent as he watched the moody giant.

Basile was very loyal to Teague and although he would talk a little too much sometimes he was still as trustworthy as an old dog. Basile would willingly kill anyone who betrayed Teague without hesitation and hurt any who spoke against him. Madrid knew that very well, it had happened once before, but never had Madrid been the victim of the giants protective anger. Even though Madrid was seriously worried about the captain he wished he had kept his mouth shut. He was comfortable with the captain and he hoped Basile knew that. And if not Madrid felt he must prove it to him, but first he needed to repair the trust between them and regain the calm, lighthearted friendship they always had.

"I think I'm going to need those wings afterall." Madrid offered hesitantly after the silencing threat, but smiled when he heard the low chuckle rumble softly from the giant's chest.

That was the good thing about Basile, once you were his friend he never held a grudge very long. And just with that muffled laugh Madrid knew- it was good again.


	13. Pirates

:Hello everyone.

Snow falling all day and no car has enabled me to finish more than I thought today so I'm posting another chap much sooner than I would have. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

Thank you all for your reviews. As well as those who have been offering their help, it's much appreciated. as I re-read the chaps I noticed a few spelling mistakes myself and I hope you'll ignore them until I have a chance to correct them. Other than that I hope you enjoy the coming chapters. There is defiantly not one scene where Arabelle is perfect in the coming chapters, and I've worked hard to write it that way. Please let me know if she's coming off as believable. You know how we hate the Sue's.

Anyway, best regards out to all my readers! And special thanks goes out to the writers of PotC, whom along with Disney, own everything.

l'il pirate

* * *

Hours past and Arabelle still waited in her cabin. Anxiously pacing the floor before her cot for the hundredth time in the past hour. Where Laury was Arabelle had no idea. And what was going on, she wasn't sure either, but she did know if something was going to happen it would have happened already. So cautiously Arabelle began to steal glances at the door. shaking her head she would pace more, the watch the door again, waiting for it to burst open or even at least someone to knock. But nothing happed.

Giving up on pacing about noonday Arabelle stood at the porthole and watched the sea, trying ardently to catch even a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary but she saw nothing was water and sky. She was tired of waiting and tired of being locked up, being ordered about. Picking up her skirts Arabelle strode to the door and without hesitation unhitched the lock and opened the door. Stepping out into the hallway Arabelle looked to her left and right, the hall was empty and silent. Stepping to her left she hastily turned and briskly strode down the hallway on her right, closing her door as she left, yearning for fresh air.

As she came to the stairway, Arabelle bit her lip and set her jaw, nothing would deter her from getting what she wanted. She was an able woman, knowledgeable and experienced at sea, and she deserved to be on deck with her experience, that is if not helping them keeping watch... or so she thought.

Coming to the top of the stairs she pushed the door open and squinted at the drastic change of light. Stepping forward and shutting the door behind her Arabelle shielded her eyes and blinked several times before she made out her surroundings. Looking around her immediate self she was surprised to see no men guarding the hatch below deck, as she had expected to ensure no passengers, as she was doing, venture up and out of deck without notice.

Arabelle, seizing the opportunity, looked around the deck to find the men working steadily, none loitering about as they had the entire journey previous, nor catching sight of her. So naturally Arabelle walked across the deck, and did the next thing on her mind, find the ship shadowing them. Arabelle's mouth grew dry as she caught sight of it's nearness and although it was not entirely clearly in view she noticed the roger-less crown.

"There is no flag." Arabelle gasped silently to herself. "No colors."

Arabelle gripped the railing and turned hastily towards the sparr deck. Something was not right. Quickly, bounding up the stairs, Arabelle tripped on her skirts and fell to the steps below her. And not being quick enough to catch herself her palms slammed against the corse wood with her full weight on top of them, instantly catapulting her mind to the sudden jolts of pain spiraling through her hands and arms.

If that wasn't enough as soon as Arabelle fell she heard an angry voice call out above her. Angry and embarrassed to have fallen in front of so many people Arabelle bit her lip and glanced up the stairs to see Laury just now landing at her side and reaching down to her.

"Arabelle! What are you doing?" he hissed as he pulled her to her feet and firmly holding her elbow. "I told you not to leave-"

Arabelle bit her lip hard trying to stop her pain stricken tears from gliding down her cheeks as she slowly held her hands up, ignoring Laury, and looked down upon her red, pricked and throbbing hands. Laury closed his mouth angrily and turned her around, walking her down the stairs briskly.

"Are you alright?" he asked tightly as he walked her down the stairs, still holding her by her arm securely.

Arabelle flinched her hands and blinked the tears away.

"I'm fine." She murmured.

Laury nodded heartlessly and kept pushing her along. "I told you not to leave your cabin, why didn't you listen to-"

"Tallard!"

Laury stopped and looked up to the sparr deck as best her could.

"Aye?" he called back over his shoulder, his voice loud and unemotional.

"The Captain needs a-"

"Shut up you daft fool!"

Laury turned to Arabelle and gave her arm a tight squeeze as he let her go. "Don't move."

Quickly he turned and jogged to the stairs again, stopping halfway as the captain appeared several feet away, standing above Arabelle and yelling down indifferently, expecting to find a salior there instead of the woman he found.

"Tighten those-"

As quickly as he had appeared he clamped his mouth shut. Slowly however, Laury watched his angry frown turn into a subtle grin and immediately Laury felt a twinge of anger pulse through his veins. LAury's mouth twisted into a bitter frown as he watched the Captain's eyes fix on Arabelle below, as she caressed her hands below, not noticing the man fixated on her and the ease in which his grin appeared. Laury cleared his throat and descended the stairs once again, his fists clenched tightly at his side, and directly found his way back to Arabelle's side.

"I'm here sir."

Captain Thuron grinned and ignored Laury a moment to address Arabelle with a generous nod.

"Miss Sparrow."

"Captain." Arabelle replied, halfheartedly as she held her tender hands to the cool folds of her dress protectively, ignoring any other greetings as she turned her frown to Laury. Laury caught her look and put his arm gingerly around her back.

"Mr. Tallard." The captain said, interrupting the moment with a tone coated with disdain. "I thought I had ordered no passengers on deck, what is Miss Sparrow doing outside the lower-"

"Yes, I-"

"It's my fault." Arabelle called up, cutting Laury off briskly.

Laury gently squeezed her upper arm in comfort and turning her away, he faced his captain.

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again. She was just leaving."

Arabelle jerked him away, tired of the cool gentle tones everyone had begun to address her with but stopped when Laury's voice calmed her tense demeanor. Once again his soothing tone she knew had returned, and his angry frown he had met her with was gone.

"It's not a good time Arabelle, just go back below, I'll come and get you I promise."

Arabelle met his eyes and, meekly, she hesitantly nodded. Cradling her hands she tried to hide them from him but he gave her a hesitant smile.

"I'll have Mr. Dixon see to your hands." He whispered. "Just stay below."

"Mr. Tallard!"

Laury looked up instantly at the Captain's stern request and was met with a harsh frown.

"If you and your bonny lass are done intimately conversing _you _have work to do."

"Aye sir, but I need to find Mr. Dixon... for Miss Sparrow."

Captain Thuron furrowed his brow. "Dixon? Is Miss Sparrow ill?" he asked pointedly at her.

Arabelle shook he head. "I am quite well, it's only a little scrap that's all."

The captain nodded but turned to Laury, only momentarily watched the young sailor before turning his gaze to Arabelle once again as she ignored his undismayed attention and hid her sore trembling fingers.

"Back directly Tallard." he commanded finally and stepped away, seemingly for good.

"Aye aye captain." Laury replied in a low rough front of respect and began to walk away with Arabelle but halted when the captain's voice returned, causing Arabelle to flinch under his fingers, clearly unnerved by the captain's reluctance to let them leave.

"Miss Sparrow."

Arabelle swallowed but put on a brave facade of indifferent as she turned to the captain standing above them ten feet or so and looking terribly menacing.

"Yes?"

"If you are not disposed I would request your immediate return here when you are finished with Dixon." He requested sounding bored and Arabelle nodded dryly.

In truth Arabelle would have graciously, or rather bitterly, neglected but Laury's steady hand on her arm gave her the only ounce of discipline she needed to swallow those thoughts and nod. Arabelle secretly loathed the man she had once respected and his request had caught her off guard. What did he want? Remembering his acute fascination at her undeterred spirit and knowledge of the sea Arabelle Signed- he craved ideas or possibly just wanted to impress her as he did other ladies on board Arabelle had so unwillingly been witness to just nights before.

"As you wish."

Captain Thuron nodded without another word and disappeared from view. Arabelle turned to Laury then and, after receiving a well meant shrug they disappeared below deck to find Mr. Dixon, the ship's doctor.

* * *

"What were you thinking? I told you not to leave your cabin, you could have been hurt."

"What do you call my hands?" Arabelle pouted as she flashed her palms to him for emphasis, which were still red, scarred and terribly tender.

"I mean if we had been closer to that ship than we are, if they had-"

"I thought you said there was nothing to worry about?"

Arabelle met his eyes with ease, her stubborn nature made Laury squirm within himself. She made him so angry sometimes but he secretly adored this part of her character- for its queer but nearly perfect duplication of his sister's.

Laury frowned and push her onward, choosing to be ignorant of the question.

Arabelle returned to silence as well and walked tight beside Laury down the small corridor. Many a time she didn't mean to be harsh but her words just flew from her lips, and she didn't know what to say now without making it worse.

"Laury?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper as they descended the next staircase to the lower deck, where Mr. Dixon's cabin/sick berth was located. Laury glanced over his shoulder to behold Arabelle's dark eyes sincere and her face lamentable but still somewhat confident and brave.

"The ship... it-"

"I know." he answered her with a deep sign. Rubbing his forehead with his chaffed hand he blinked hard.

"Do you think they'll board?" Arabelle inquired softly.

Laury looked at her keenly. Her voice was so steady it surprised him. _What kind of young lady spoke of pirates, pirates so close, and their activities in the same sentence with a steady voice?_ Laury knew Arabelle was something different but he didn't know she was this different.

Laury stopped, a step below Arabelle and turned to face her. The light was dim between decks and he could not see her features as clearly as he normally could below deck but he felt her dark eyes upon him, steadily watching him.

"Are you scared?"

Arabelle opened her mouth to retort or slap him with bitter insults but her words dried on her tongue. Laury looked so sincere, and so much so that in this light he looked a bit like Daniel. Arabelle averted her eyes and took a deep breath and her eyes filled with tears. When she looked back, a moment later, the look of her brother was gone. Laury squeezed her arm consolingly.

"It's alright if you are, you have-"

"No."

Laury stopped, closing his mouth his eyes flickered across her face, as if trying to find a hint or trace of untruth.

"I've heard stories about situations like these. I'm not scared. Being scared only makes things worse, being scared will get you killed."

"That's true in some respects." Laury confessed. "But for simply hearing about stories you are abnormally calm."

"That's from reading so much I suppose." Arabelle smiled weakly and stepped forward, trying to bypass Laury but he side stepped and blocked her path.

"Arabelle..." He inquired sternly but with concern his voice reached her.

Arabelle looked up hesitantly and met his eyes.

"You haven't by any chance met any pirates before have you?" He asked pointedly.

Arabelle found it hard to think of an answer. _What was he getting at? And why did it matter is she had or not? If she said yes would be allow her to be let loose from her cabin, perhaps help, or would he lock her away being worried about her safety?_ Then again perhaps he was just curios.

"Why do you ask?" Arabelle replied, avoiding un necessary eye contact.

Laury's eyes intently examined her face. He wished he could see her face more vividly so he could read her emotions but the stairway was so dark- he silently cursed himself for stopping her here. If he knew Arabelle at all she would lie to him outright if she thought it would do her any good. She was very good at lying, so good that he could never tell what was truth and what was untruth. That was one thing he hated about her.

"You just seem awful placid when we are in fact being followed by one of the most feared and illusive pirate ships in this side of the world that's all."

Arabelle bit her lip from letting words tumble out. _What ship was it? Who was it? Did Laury know or was he just trying to make her uneasy, to tell him everything he wanted to know? _Arabelle frowned at him, once again her frustration for the young man bubbled over.

"Just because I am less than jumpy at the simple mention of pirates does not mean I have a habit of coexisting and or meeting with them at one time or another during my life Mr. Tallard. I would ask that you avoid such hasty conclusions on my part and ask that you, in the future, not assume anything about me without proper proof."

"I was just concerned Ar-"

Arabelle pushed past him and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face him with a meager scowl.

"I do not care what your motive was I only ask that you never inquire into my past again."

And with that Arabelle turned away again, swiftly moved down the corridor with Laury hot on her heels, barely making it to her side before she opened the closest door on the right which forced Laury to let the subject be as the thick accented voice from the Mr. Dixon came from within with incredibly clarity and tenderness.

"Afternoon... Miss..?"

"Sparrow."

"Ah yes, I see it is. What can I do for you?"


	14. His Past

:Personally I love the selection of Teague in this chapter. Purposely he is painted very... well like every other human. He's unique but he's also very much the same. I've included some history about him that I'm sure you'll like. I've also included extra details. I want you all to know just how it feels to be him. (At least how I see it.)

Also I have included some Arabelle. This is where a subject a few of you have been wondering about is brought up. It may not be addressed how you may have expected but I promise there is a reason.

Enjoy

l'il pirate

* * *

By the approaching dusk Teague was growing tired of watching the ship just beyond his grasp. Nothing had happened the entire day and Teague's anger was running low on steam. His hands were sore from gripping the helm to tight and his shoulders felt like they were made of stone. Teague tensed- pulling every muscle in his body tight then relaxing them with the feeling of a snapping thread all through his back and arms.

His whole body was aching with dull pain and he couldn't take much more. Signing Teague looked over his crew. They were working twice as hard as they usually did, even though there was nothing to do but wait. Any task that needed to be done was completed as fast as possible and with as much strength as the men could muster without killing themselves. Teague was proud but he also frowned over their stupidity. They would do well to think of what would come next. They were going to take a ship, the same size as them, down. Working this hard now was a fool's errand. They would be useless when the time came to fight.

Opening his mouth to call another order, one that would slow the men down, Teague found that his jaw was stiff and unpleasantly paining from the angry scowled he had sported all day. Unhappily Teague relented to his body and turned to his left, waved an awaiting man forward and stepped away from the helm. Teague didn't speak, he didn't issue any orders, he just walked away, down the steps and across the deck to his cabin door.

Teague didn't look up and didn't hesitate, he walked straight for his cabin and slammed the door behind him. He was to tired to be concerned with the effect his actions would have on the men, besides he didn't care. He knew Abe would come looking for him a few minutes, and then he would run back out to the crew and act captain to them all. It was predictable. It was also true.

Before Teague even reached his desk there was a knock at the door. Teague ignored it. He knew it was Abe, and quite frankly he wasn't ready to admit him yet. Again there was a knock. Teague lifted the belt and pistols off and laid the belt on the edge of the table then slid the heavy coat from his shoulders and threw it over the nearest chair next to the pistols. He still felt weighted down, but with the coat and the pistols gone he felt a great weight was taken away. Hesitantly Teague looked down at the sword at his side, then quickly undid the belt and removed his sword. He hung the sword over the back of his chair, quickly accessible, and then removed his hat.

Hanging the hat on the chair's back, atop the sword, Teague finally bid enter to the one pounding on the door. Teague didn't even sit as the door opened, slammed shut again and Abe hastened through the shadowy entrance to the open room beyond, for Teague knew he would stand up momentarily.

Abe looked exhausted as well but more anxiously than anything. He stopped at the desk in a huff and opened his mouth to speak but Teague spoke instead, through a tight jaw and with cold piercing eyes.

"There is no need to keep this chase up any longer. We've done what we needed to do. Pull the ship back slowly once dusk starts to fall. There will be no lighting of lanterns tonight- we navigate by the stars. And if you don't know how to do it I will. When dawn arrives I want us out of sight of that ship. Understood?"

Abe's jaw nearly dropped it's full length. "Wha-?"

This was where Teague usually stood and navigated his way to the liquor cabinet where he produced a good strong bottle of rum, took it back to his desk and drank half the bottle during the following conversation, and emptied the rest of the bottle before emerging from his cabin.

This time Teague didn't move.

"The men, Mr. Marshal- you may have not seen, are killing themselves as we speck. They are in no position to capture a ship, and nor shall they until they have fully recovered their strength. We have found the ship and know its location. It will not take long before we find it again, and that time we will take it without any hesitation. They met us with us once. They will not be expecting us a second time."

"What if they do?" Gabriel asked quickly in the break of Teague's command.

"How many times have you been on a ship, or heard of a ship that met up with pirates twice during a single journey?"

Abe was silent.

Teague frowned. "Exactly. They would have been _almost_ expecting us to come upon them, but twice- no. They will believe they are safe. They will let their guard down and when they do we will be there."

"Won't they see us coming and raise alarm."

"Not under the cover of darkness. From now until then there will be no lanterns lit on deck from dusk till dawn."

Now Teague sat.

"Relay my orders but do not act hastily. Our departure must be completed with utter silence. When the sun rises over that horizon I want it look like we disappeared into the night. I want to trace before hand."

"Aye captain."

"Now go."

Gabriel nodded and left the cabin directly. As the door shut Teague waited, counting a few moments before the stillness outside was filled with murmurs, the odd shout and then nothing. It was done. The crew was told. Teague stood and walked back to the window lining the wall behind his desk. Staring out into the wide endless horizon behind them Teague breathed deeply.

_What had ever brought him here? How did he ever get this far in life, with so much responsibility without having anything himself? _Teague was to young to think on this seriously but another question ran through his mind then. A question he could never answer. _And what did it matter? _

* * *

Teague slept badly that night, but better than most. He awoke in the wee hours of the morning feeling like he had been tossed about by the waves in the bowels of the ship with nothing to do but be thrown about like a rag doll. Mostly Teague awoke from bad dreams, but this night he had not dreamt at all. Teague didn't know what was worse. He had woken at any unexpected, and or, light noise which took him, what felt like, hours before he could fall asleep again.

Finally having enough of eternal interruptions and the lack of sound rest Teague sat up and threw off the corse blanket draped over him. Leaning forward on his knees he stared at the dark boards beneath his feet wishing that he might die rather than get up, dressed and back out to the world waiting for him. Quite often Teague felt this way. He was not happy with his life, and not knowing why was more maddening than anything.

Teague was a strong man, never prone to vain whining, uncertainty and or weakness. He was not overly proud of it either. Teague never flaunted anything he had. He found it safer to keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. But it was also that attitude that had gotten him the Bough.

His first ship, The _Indigo Princess _had been inherited from Captain Lee, and old oriental captain exiled from China who had come to the Indies to live out the rest of his life in peace, and wealth- making himself Lord of the Carribean Seas. Teague had met Captain Lee on the shores of Puerto Rico many years ago before joining the misfit crew as it prowled the Carribean. Teague, on a whole, spent five years under Captain Lee along side his friend Simal before the old man's death during a routine scrimmage with the arriving navy.

After that battle, with both the captain and his loyal quartermaster killed Teague was elected captain of the remaining lot and thus put in charge of the battered old ship. For months afterward Teague lead the men through a series of battles and raids, not one ever failing. A few of Lee's crew remained on with Teague but many viewed the death of their captain a sign to retire, however proud they were of Teague's successful transformation to the _Indigo's _new captain. All men remained in Teague's good favor and friendship, offering their services if ever needed them, they wished him well on his journeys but chose this time to retire with their spoils.

Teague understood and rallied a new crew, still high on the newness of being captain of his own ship. Those were the days when he looked at each day as an adventure and regarded each sunrise with the potential of great things awaiting. Finally when the new crew was assembled and, Teague's friend Simal appointed quartermaster, they set sail, he for the first time truly as _Captain_ Edward Teague.

Teague rubbed his face loosely with the palm of his hand. That day was six years ago now, and to Teague it felt like an eternity. Four years had passed since he had retired the old ship for a newly acquired charming swift Frigate called the _Ash Bough _for it's dark dull colors. The perfect pirate ship. Those had been the good days, and they lasted for years until Simal relinquished his position on Teague's ship to marry a village girl on a small isl around Jamaica. Teague had been happy for the couple, however put out by his friend's choice to give up a life of adventure for married life, stayed for the wedding and wished them well as he left- heading back out to sea with a new quartermaster- Gabriel Marshal.

It took a few months out at sea before Teague started to change. And when he did there was no stopping him. Suddenly his adventurous spirit drown and his love of life snubbed out like a weak flame, never to resurface again. That was also the time when things started to go very wrong. Teague lost four men to illness, three were lost in a storm and one killed speaking out against him.

It was that situation where Teague had suddenly changed, and quick enough that everyone saw it. He had never killed a man for little reason before. But this man, did nothing but reject Teague and his view on a raid before Teague shot him, right on deck amidst the other crewmen. He then ordered the body to be coldly dumped overboard, and disappeared into his cabin for days.

Teague breathed deeply as he remembered those days, those nights and those cold thoughts he felt. Since that day he didn't feel very much at all, and it never got very much better. Yes he rarely lost a battle, men or spoils he set his eye on but that was because of his level head and smart wisdom. But there were those times when he lost himself, when he became something else.

Teague, having grown up in a very hard and unforgiving world, made a vow when he was young to liberate people, save others and be the best man he could be. Sadly within those months he had become the total opposite. Although he had done a selection of small selfless acts and saved a few from the hard lonely world he had been forced to endure he became more and more cruel, harsh and untrusting each day. He inflicted pain on those who begged for mercy and he ignored the cries of help of hundreds of people, either on land or sea.

With a quiet grunt Teague pulled himself from his bed. He hated thinking of the past and how much he had disappointed his younger self. It made him feel bound to that vow he had made when he was a foolish young child, and it made him feel like he had failed himself. And Teague never failed.

Leaving his bunk Teague swaggered into his cabin in perfect rhythm with the rocking ship. Over the years he had perfected walking a straight line, even with bottles of rum and the worst of storms against him. It wasn't a credit to him that much, except when there were bets going on during drunken bouts, but it was something that had passed the times during the long sea voyages. That and playing his guitar, staring out the window or filling out his log books.

Coming into the larger cabin Teague looked around before his eyes settled on the large glass window behind his desk. Sauntering over to it Teague rubbed his bare chest through the open neck of his shirt and watched the red skies danceing over the dark horizon. With a deep sigh he remained perfectly silent as those painfully long moments of magic occurred, lifting the color from the sun up and over the horizon, not stopping until the entire burning orb was a safe distance above the water and continually climbing through the clear blue sky.

Another day. Teague winced. Each new day and nothing changed. Nothing to look forward to and nothing worth regretting. With a bow of his head Teague went back to his bunk and dressed quietly as he thought about his life once more. He had a ship, a crew of loyal men, a title, good profit, freedom, his heath- which wasn't all that bad, and he...

Teague looped his belt and stood up straight. It was time to forget his thoughts and his feelings. It was time to _work_. Besides he was daft to even think anything would, or could change his life for the better. This was his life, and he was good at it- no matter how he felt about it... he was good at it- that's all that mattered.

* * *

Arabelle spent the next day in the company of Captain Thuron, as she had the day before. She didn't quite know, _still_, why she was required in the constant presence of the captain but it was readily better than being locked below.

Arabelle stood on the sparr deck, near the stern, watching the waves crash against the hull as she listened to the Captain give his men a baffled tongue lashing about the disappearance of the following ship.

When they had all awoken this morning the entire deck had been in confusion. The ship that had been so closely following them had been gone. Vanishing without a trace. No one knew what had happened, and although many were very pleased they were left on edge by the captain's mistrust. Captain Thuron, even hours after the discovery had occurred was still ardently pressing his crewmen for answers.

Arabelle suppressed a small grin as she looked over her shoulder at the captain, red faced and demanding. No one knew what had happened, and Arabelle didn't know why knowing would help things. The ship had gone and they were safe, _what was wrong with that?_

Turning, Arabelle stood against the railing and looked out across the ship to the ocean beyond. She was so glad to be free of the lower decks, she felt content and her happiness truly showed.

"Miss Sparrow."

Arabelle turned and caught a nod from a man stopping a few feet from her. Standing straighter, Arabelle nodded with a genuine smile.

"Good morning Mr. Sanders. What can I do for you?"

Andrew grinned as he leaned against the railing down a few feet from her.

"Doin' better I see."

Arabelle nodded. "Aye. Being able to see clear horizons all about us has surly lifted a great weight off my mind, as with everyone else I am sure."

Andrew nodded. "Aye."

He looked to the captain, still demanding explanation and gave a comical wince. "Captain don't seem all to thrilled 'bout it though."

Arabelle gave a shrug as she nodded in agreement. "I don't have any idea why. Shouldn't this be a happy discovery?"

Andrew waved it off nonchalantly.

"The captain's moods change with the winds. Always a good reason for change though, even if we don't see it."

"I suppose so. Your job entitles complete trust in your captain and he must have worked hard to earn everyone's trust long before now, to be able to command it so well now."

Andrew nodded solemnly and regarded his captain, who seemed only now to be calming.

"Seems like he's finally understood we are out of danger."

Andrew faced Arabelle's smile with a shadow of his own. "Aye. I best be off to work. Looks like he's coming for you anyhow."

Arabelle clasped her hands behind her and nodded to Andrew as he slowly made his way past the approaching captain and back to whatever work he could find under the warming sun.

"Everything in order captain?" Arabelle inquired gently.

The captain nodded moodily.

Arabelle gave him a halfhearted smile, not wanting to make light of the situation if he refused, she was unsure of how to press on.

"I suppose the passengers are quite pleased we are no longer being followed." she offered kindly

Again the captain just nodded and Arabelle turned back to the ocean, uncertain she should say anymore. A long moment of silence passed, each second making Arabelle more cautious about the captains mood. Fearing his displeasure, or being blamed for interrupting his thoughts, she moved to remove herself from his presence when he spoke.

"I must tell you Miss Sparrow I have rules for my crewmen regarding passengers."

Arabelle faced him, quite perplexed about his meaning. He did not look at her so she gently offered a unbias reply.

"I know of them. Laury has told me about such rules. It is a good thing to have rules aboard-"

"I heard from my quartermaster that you did not return to your cabin after you left our company, on the night of my dinner, but stayed on deck for some time with the young master Tallard."

Arabelle furrowed her brow.

"Yes. I didn't see any harm in such a conversation. I can assure you I was not in the way, nor of any distraction."

That was when the captain faced Arabelle, meeting her gaze directly. Arabelle couldn't help but feel the erg to shrink back and depart but she held her ground, as she always did. However she actually feared what the captain may be alluding to.

"All women are a distraction to men Miss Sparrow."

"Are you saying that-"

"I am not suggesting anything for I do not know the circumstances. I only aim to advise you against any friendship you may be developing with my crewmen." He said quite gruffly. Arabelle blinked.

'_Did he just say what I think he just-'_

"I respect you Miss Sparrow, and I find your company quite entertaining but my duty of captain comes first. You shall be leaving quite soon at the end of this voyage and I would rather you leave all sense of this ship and or crew behind."

"Captain Thuron are you suggesting that there are feelings between Mr. Tallard and myself, be... beyond the sincerest form of friendship between two _acquaintances_?"

"It would seem clear wouldn't it Miss if I have found the need to address such matters." Thuron replied coldly.

Arabelle grimaced. "And you suggest that it is apparent?"

"Aye."

'_Blast! Arabelle- what have you done?_' her heart hissed bitterly.

"I can assure you captain that it is not so." Arabelle offered sincerely.

"Not so? Do you suggest I am a fool to human inclinations or good judgement?"

"Certainly not. I am only assuring you that there are no feelings such as those mentioned between Mr. Tallard and myself. However, I must ask you now this: have you addressed these matters to him?"

Arabelle praying that he had not for it would give her much embarrassment if he had.

"I have not."

Arabelle singed. '_Thank God_.'

"Possessing a character such as yours I knew you would address the situation more effectively than I. Besides, so far these matters are of no concern of mine. And I hope they will never become want of my judgement. And I am pleased you are in agreement they will not. I only find it my place now then to require you end these attachments you seem to have with my crewmen immediately."

Arabelle nodded but felt a creeping feeling within her stomach, wanting to press further Arabelle gently inquired after the motive.

"I've never lost a man to such cause Miss and I don't intend to. Either by you or any other young woman on board. I run a reputable merchant trade vessel-"

Arabelle bit her lip from protesting on just how '_reputable_' it was- especially the captain's so called social gatherings in his cabin.

"- I hardly think your society would be pleased when rumors begin to fly about romances on board such ships. And I'm sure your family would be horrified if they knew of your actions."

Arabelle scoffed. "I cannot be sure Captain but I highly doubt they would be very concerned with my actions, nor think of such. That is- even _if _I did have feelings for Mr. Tallerd beyond kind friendship."

Captain Thuron's eyes were bleak and his mouth frowning at this reply.

"I had hoped you had carried more respect for your family Miss Sparrow. Since I had assumed you were a pleasant young woman of well means and character I find myself greatly disappointed."

"Oh I like to think I am as well, it's only truthfully... I do not have a family. They've all passed away or have become lost to me."

Thuron looked grave. "I beg your pardon Miss Sparrow, I was unaware."

"No, it's not necessary. I understand. I should apologize, you are quite right about my character- it is in sore need of readjusting." Arabelle offered with a hesitant smile. "And although my family has died I feel I must tell you that I am not of the society you may think. My family was quite poor. Although my brother's shipyard did quite well we were in no position as many onboard here have. I'm sure if there was a relationship between Mr. Tallard and myself that accredited supervision my parents would be all but unhappy for me. But you have my solemn vow that I shall never become in the position to need another talk on friendships among the crew. I promise I shall remedy this problem as you have requested."

Captain Thuron smiled genuinely and shook his head.

"Don't fret over it Miss. I was concerned that's all. I know your spirit. I can see you'd rather be one of the crew than detained by it. I have no objections with you talking with the crew when they are free to do so, but my advising on the quantity and timing of such conversation still remains. Besides I very much doubt that the other ladies on board would regard your choice of company very becoming."

"Oh but I-"

"No. I suggest you listen to them. It's much easier to let the current take you than swim against it. Obeying those around you may in fact be credit to yourself. Don't reject counsel or commendation to harshly Miss Sparrow- it could be of use later if you pay attention."

Arabelle slowly let a smile creep onto her face, as much she hated to admit it he did speck the truth.

Captain Thuron gave her a pestering look as he turned away. "Even things or people you detest may had hidden value. Be sure to keep your eyes out for such treasure."

And with that Thuron gave her a nod and left her side.

Arabelle stayed where she was a moment, smiling across the ship at nothing in particular but the Captain's words. However queer advice Arabelle find some sense to it. How they arrived on that topic she was unsure but she was determined to try and remember them. So she could discover this treasure he mentioned for herself.

* * *

Leaving the safety of his cabin Teague was greeted by a clear blue sky hanging perfectly undisturbed around the uninhabited ship. He was surprised not to see the deck teeming with life but it was understandable. Last night he had ordered the men to rest. Today they would be doing nothing but obeying his orders to the best or their ability. Teague didn't doubt he would hear complaints about the previous day but it was the men's own faults. Teague wasn't going to risk his life for the lot of them growing tired far too quickly. He wanted things done quickly and precisely. Even though this was a merchant vessel, carrying passengers no doubt, he wasn't about to take any chances. He had heard rumors about lesser navy vessels being traded in for the odd merchant vessel in attempts to catch more outlaws.

Teague smirked at their stupidity. The Navy would have to ally themselves with other _pirates _before any let their guard down to any ship- no matter it's nature. And that was something Teague was ready to bet all his treasure he would never live to see.

Teague sauntered across the deck and took in the cool air, slowly losing it's heavy moister from the cool sea night. His mind still occupied with thought's of the past, he didn't bother even glancing around the deck as the watch changed, allowing those on deck early to grab something in the galley before it was all gone. But these were regular happenings that Teague didn't concern himself very much with.

He was the captain. He took over when Gabriel informed him of judgement worthy occurrences, theft, and or any unfitting behavior. It was Gabriel who worried about the mens' concerns. He was the link between Teague and his crew. Maitland worried about the ship and reported anything and everything to Teague, Samuel kept their course in check, Hudson was in charge of the crew and equipment- and reported to Gabriel, and Isaac looked out for ammunition. In all sincerity Teague didn't do very much at all. And possibly this was his only problem.

Teague looked about the ship again and the five men went about the ship relieving other crewmen. Today, having nothing to do nor anything to occupy them, there would only be a skeleton crew as the others remained below or out of the way. Teague was glad of that. As he looked up at the sun and the rays of heat gliding across the horizon he squinted then turned abruptly. It would be a hot day. Teague passed Raul, as he made his way to the helm, on his way back to his cabin.

"Switch watches frequently. Have all the men serve once from now till dawn."

"Aye Captain." Raul replied neatly, doing well to hide his appealing accent.

"Keep a close eye on the horizon. Anything that is sighted I will be notified, understood."

"_Anything_, aye." Raul echoed.

"And send Ben to my cabin."

"Aye captain."

Teague stepped for his cabin, opening the door and Raul dropped from the stairs and headed towards the hatch leading below. Teague watched him go then stopped him with a fierce growl.

"Not now!"

Raul turned and faced his sour captain, waiting for another order. Hoping for one with clearer meaning.

Teague turned back to his cabin again, standing before the door he spoke over his shoulder.

"Send him later. After the noon watch."

Raul nodded again, and bit back the words hovering on his tongue.

"As you wish captain."

Teague nodded. Appreciative for the mans' good natured reply. Raul always aimed to please him, and even though his loyalty to Gabriel noted concern Teague appreciated the mans' silent obedience.

So without another word Teague entered the cabin, once again shutting off the world.


	15. Murmurs

:Welcome back. I've been busy I apologise. here's the next chapter, my gift to you in line with the forecast of warmer days coming our way. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the new characters introduced. You've got to love the lads!

l'il pirate

* * *

The next day Teague kept to his cabin, leaving the Bough in the eager hands of Gabriel. Naught many of the crew thought much of the sudden disappearance of their captain. They simply calked it up to him taking some needed rest and they understood. However, it was also during that next day that murmurs arose. Passed through the shadows of the ship, added and changed as each saw fit until they went too far and reached a tender set of ears deep in the galley in the midst of the midday meal.

Hunter, one of Teague's youngest crewmen, sat at one of the centre tables in the galley deeply in conversation with Jamie Hunt, another lively young man in the crew, when suddenly he stopped amidst some interesting tale about his brother abruptly.

"...Aye that's what I'm telling yah. 'Ol Ben went in there late yesterday. Heard he was sent for 'specially by the captain."

Hunter's brow furrowed as he overheard these words by a man behind him, at the next table, but shrugged it off. Disregarding the sailors' talk he prepared to pick up where he had left off amidst his story when he was hit with the man's next words.

"Aye. The captain's been acting mighty strange. I wouldn't be surprised if he's on his death door the way 'is moods keep chanin'."

"Hunter! Hey mate, what's-" Jamie reached across th table and slapped Hunter's cheek comically, bringing him back to the present. Hunter waved his hand at his animated friend and motioned to the men behind him, beaconing him to listen and stay silent immediately.

"Teague, on his death bed? I doubt we'd be that lucky." One of the men scoffed, receiving a few chuckles and a hearty reply from his companions.

Hunter's eyes widened and his lip stiffened. Looking up, Jamie across the table, could see the anger flash through his eyes. Many on the ship were dreadfully loyal to Teague. They respected him and served him loyally no matter what. But there were some who were not as faithful as most.

"He can't say that about the captain." Hunter hissed as he prepared to get up and deal with the man himself, but Jamie quickly held out his hand, stopping his younger friend.

"What are you going to do? You can't shut 'im up." Jamie retorted under his breath, safe from any other's ears. "He has the right to speak his mind in the confidence of his mates. Teague don't react well to skirmishers."

Hunter was about to retort, claiming that this was treason when he was brutally silenced.

"The captain's getting weak. It's time he was replaced. He gave up on that Frigate when we could have taken 'er. I bet we'd be living like kings now if we had. She was loaded with spoils. Firth claimed he saw a woman on deck yesterday, imagine lads a ship full of passengers! We could have taken our pick of wenches, not to mention rich ones at that. Ney, something's gone wrong with the Captain's head. Do you know he even shortchanges us out of our share of the plunder? Aye, I've seen it me'self. He's been given larger portions to his closest-"

"That's it." Hunter stood up quickly, knocking the bench backwards as he did and causing more than a few men to turn and see what the commotion was about.

Hunter turned to the table behind him and spied the man who had been speaking, as all attention was on him. Grabbing him by his collar Hunter hauled him to his feet and punched him as hard as he could across the jaw with a tightly clenched fist.

Immediately the man's closest counterpart jumped to his feet and leapt on Hunter, knocking him to his feet in one swift motion. Hunter attempted to remove the man from on top him with another swift punch but he was beat to it when Jamie lunged over the table, tackling the man just as the first one wobbled to his feet, spitting on the floor before him as he growled at Hunter.

Hunter moved quickly to hit him again, but sadly missed and received his own solid blow to the jaw. Hunter took a breath and straightened up as he staggered back, licking the blood from the corner of his mouth. Hunter stared at the man before him for a long moment then smirked as his tongue flickered across his bottom lip for remnents of blood.

"You hit pretty good." he noted causing his opponent to growl with pleasure and send his jeering companions a smirk.

As he turned back, however, he met Hunter's fist once again, this time the result was more than against his favour. Dropping him for a good while, Hunter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned at the sound of another muffled thud. Jamie stood there with a grin plastered across his face.

"It's _sad _we aren't their mates, ain't it?"

Hunter exhaled a laugh just before he heard a yell. Hunter and Jamie turned instantly and came face to face with another man, leaping towards them as a mug fly through the air behind him. Jamie and Hunter quickly exchanged puzzled looked before they were reluctantly hauled into the unfolding mayhem around them.

Within moments, it seemed, the entire galley was a sight of shear pandemonium. Smashed glass was everywhere, overturned tables and benches created safe havens for those needing a breather, bits of food were plastered across the walls, floors and ceiling as it had been flung across the room at unsuspecting men. Lanterns were upset and smothered, and unconscious men were laying about the room, from atop tables to the furthest reaches of the room. The fight included the entire galley full of men now and showed no sign of stopping soon. That was... until the shot sounded.

As the shot riddled the air the hold immediately fell perfectly silent, other than the soft moans of the dropped men. Even though only a few could see him, everyone knew it was Teague. Standing at the door, his face was as cold and unkind as the dug grave for a beloved child. Beside him stood Basile, as stern as his captain and even as he towered over him, he didn't look nearly as deadly as the smaller man.

Slowly the crew parted a ways and Teague stepped forward, replacing his pistol to it's place within his jacket, as he entered the damaged galley dotted with bodies, broken furniture, glass and food. Teague did not look pleased.

Hunter, still amongst the battle field of a galley, was near the back of the room amongst the shadows standing over the third man he had dropped. Hunter was glad he stood where he was now, seemingly out of the sight of Teague's dangerous anger.

Across the galley Hunter spied Jamie, moaning as he pulled himself erect after being knocked off the table he had been previousely fighting on. Knowing his friend would be fine, Hunter focused on Teague again, who continued to walk straight into the galley, looking at those around him, one-by-one with hard corse glares. Teague then stopped, reaching the end of the room, turned and scowled at the entirety of his misbehaved crew.

"Hudson, Avery! Wake the wounded and haul them on deck." Teague turned, not even waiting for a nod from his men. "The rest of you on deck, immediately! Basile- take charge."

"Aye sirrah."

The entire crew quickly jostled to the door and out without hesitation under the stern eye of the black giant. Leaving Teague behind in the destroyed room, littered with filth and men. Looking around as his two men went to work waking the men laying about Teague retained his hateful expression, and counted the dropped men. Eight. Eight unconscious men.

"Captain."

Teague didn't move, standing still with his back facing the door, he didn't move an inch. He kept his eyes down at the galley floor covered with debris from the fight, but he knew it was Madrid. It was always Madrid.

"What happened in here?" Madrid stepped forward into the room, looking around in awe. "I came as soon as I heard the shot."

Madrid stopped at Teague's side and waited. The latter still didn't move, nor spoke.

"You arn't suppose to leave your post unless relieved." Teague said coldly, as he finally faced the younger man, several moments later.

Madrid swallowed. He knew that. And he suspected Teague to be angry but something in Teague's tone hinted something otherwise.

"Aye Captain. It won't happen again. I just thought something had..."

Teague turned, facing Madrid and causing him to quiet immediately.

"We seem to have had a little problem with the crew." Teague said abruptly.

Madrid glanced around the room and raised his eyebrows at the mess. "Any idea what caused such mayhem?"

"Master Hardy claimed Hunter took quite a swing at Williams." Teague replied, as a sparkle animated his eyes.

Madrid fought hard to keep a smirk as he read Teague's eyes, sensing his amusement for the entire situation, however much discipline he would have to issue... not to mention the repairs.

"Did Hardy explain the circumstances?"

Teague's eyes narrowed, but still held their amusement.

"Apparently young Mr. Hunter was unprovoked."

Madrid looked surprised, looking about the room again he couldn't believe that the quiet natured young man he knew could have started such a uprising in the crew unless he had a just reason. Teague seemed to note his surprise, for when Madrid looked upon his captain once again there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Madrid couldn't help but grin now.

Teague shook his head as he turned for the door. "I na're thought I'd see that lad to something like this either. I suppose it's high time we found out the cause."

Madrid gave a quick nod and they both exited the galley, heading up to the crew awaiting.

_

* * *

_

Moments later, on the main deck of the Ash Bough

Teague emerged from the hold to the sight of the crew mulling around the deck aimlessly as Basile stood amongst them, yelling fiercely for order. Teague walked to his side suppressing all his previous amusement with incredible skill. Basile growled as Teague stopped at his side, muttering something about the impertinence of the men, he tried his hand at orders again. This time trying a more direct approach.

"Captain on deck!"

Seeming to do the trick the crew quieted swiftly and all arranged themselves in relative order, enabling Teague to walk the length of the deck as he addressed them. Madrid took his place at the end of the crowd, near the stern, and kept careful watch on Teague. Teague's mood had changed so effectively and drastically that if Madrid had not been with him in the galley moments before he would have never guessed it was a smirk hiding under Teague's cross face and blackened eyes.

Basile, pleased to have finally acquired order amongst the riled crew, stepped back allowing Gabriel to move to his position before the crew behind Teague, where his position required him.

Teague took his place directly before the crew and stared at them silently for several unnerving moments before he walked to the bow, stopped and faced the crew directly once again.

"You are all lucky so many of you were included in the havoc below deck..." Teague began, addressing the crew with an icy smile.

A few of the men smirked, stupidly murmuring to each other at their luck for so 'smartly' diverting Teague's anger. But those who did, did not expect what was to come next. Teague's smile froze upon his lips so quickly that these men did not have a chance to notice. They jumped as Teague, unexpectedly, lashed out at the crew.

"You good for nothing, worthless salty sodden bilge rats!"

A number of the crew flinched. It had been some time before Teague had yelled at them, usually he carried out his punishment or judgement silently which was all the more dangerous and deadly but still, Teague's words hurt their pride. He was condemning them all, and they knew he couldn't abandon them all but he still could reprimand them.

"Lady luck was with you cowards today it would seem. I should have each one of you worthless blauguarts shot here and now where you stand!... sadly that would leave me without a crew, and that I will not afford." Teague's voice grew surprisingly low as he finished his statement after the hateful blast, which gave the men a moment to take a breath and stiffen their backs as Teague turned on them again.

"You are mindless idiots- The lot of you!" He spat in their faces as he passed them, making his way back down the length of the ship. "Such mindless action merits the lowest degree of respect I should award you, if at all! There will not be such action aboard my ship! And I can assure you none of you will be given a chance to fail me again!"

Teague stopped, halfway down the ship and faced the crew looking now more fearful than ashamed.

"BUT... supposing the behavior you, as a _united _crew, have displayed can be rightly justified I am willing to be remotely reasonable. I will allow one crewman to step forward and explain the reason for the despicable state the galley now lies in. Whether or not I am satisfied with the tale all of you will be required to right the wrongs you committed this morning. Starting with the repairing and cleaning of the galley. If any of you so chose to belay my order on the subject I will hang _each and every one_ of you from the mast. And you will hang there until I am convinced you will never belay one of my orders again. If_ I_ feel you are unable to be trusted you will be shot. Master Marshal, would you agree?"

"Aye captain. I agree no quarter given."

Teague never took his eyes off the crew, he only narrowed them darkly as he looked down the line of crewmen, each hesitant to speak. They knew that if they all started to give reasons for the upheaval of the galley Teague would certainly see through it and subject them to harsher punishment so they all stayed silent.

Teague waited. And long moments passed until there was some shuffling down the line, a blunt and hushed retort and then Hunter fell forward, breaking the line.

The young lad quickly moved back into line, but not before his eyes met Teague's black ones. He lowered his face and waited in painful silence for the following second when Teague would say

"Hunter."

Hunter's jaw tightened as he raised his eyes slowly, only glancing at his captain's assortment of weaponry tucked into his jacket, not daring to meet the man's eyes.

"Marshal- watch the crew. Any man within this lot who moves before I return receives ten lashes. Hunter..."

Hunter hesitantly met Teague's face just as he turned away, heading towards his cabin.

"Come with me."

"Aye sir." Hunter murmured, and lifted his chin.

As much as he wanted to send Jamie a scowl for pushing him, Hunter kept his eyes on his captain and his head up. He was not afraid. He would tell the truth. He would hold Teague's trust.


	16. Cannons and Thieves

:Here we are. Days are progessing, weather's getting nice and work is HECTIC. I'll try and keep these chapters coming consistantly, I'd love to hear from you all though. And any who haven't checked out _Mothers of the Caribbean_ I highly recomend you read and review!

Hat's off to the ladies and gentlemen over at the _Magnificent Garden Party. _

l'il pirate

* * *

The next few days passed slowly for Arabelle. After her little chat with Captain Thuron she was quite careful with the time she spent with Laury. She would speak with him only a little each day, and kept the conversation quite formal. She never asked him pointed questions, just general things such as the weather, their course and or any news on the next port.

At first she knew Laury felt uncomfortable with her new curt personality but within the next few days he began to understand and accept it. Especially after noticing Captain Thuron always in view when Arabelle and he spoke, always watching them. Laury knew immediately the captain had said something and although he missed the lively conversation and friendship with the young woman he knew it was not his place to form a friendship with such a woman who's station was so high above his own. Or so he thought.

It was also in those next few days that Arabelle strived to take the captain's advice and widen out her associates. Namely, towards the other young women on board. It took great effort but soon Arabelle was coached quite severely by Mrs. Radford in conversation and complementing the other yong women, whom Arabelle found much more accomplished than she.

Out of the six young women she met in two days Arabelle had met only one near her own mind, and this woman hated any art, loved gentleman and thought the ship was disgusting. Arabelle was lost amongst her new acquaintances. All they spoke of was fashion, gossip and slandered each other with a despicable lovable, kind front.

On the fourth day after the disappearance of the ship Arabelle kept to her room on the false accusation of a headache. She was actually feeling quite well but dreaded the thought of another painfully long afternoon in the company of Fanny and Emily Charleston- the silliest and most horrid girls Belle had ever met.

Truthfully Arabelle spent her entire day reading about the exciting Captain Garrick and his crew of dreadfully fascinating miscreants. However nearing the afternoon Arabelle's mind grew tired of reading the small print and continually drifted from the page until she snapped the book shut and tossed it onto her bed.

Arabelle began to pace the room as her mind clouded with memories. The truth was Arabelle had been battling loneliness for the past few days now, and was feeling quiet exhausted by it all. Ever since Arabelle had agreed to serve Mrs. Radford her afternoons without protest, and all the smiles she could muster to the new people she met arabelle ad begun to miss her dear old friends dreadfully. Phoebe especially.

Phoebe had been her true confidant those years she had spent in England. She had been her strong shoulder when she had gotten the news about her family. When she had heard the news of her brother Robert's betrayal upon the family and when she had been left alone with nothing Phoebe had dragged her from the house, forced sweets and sunshine into his system, treated her to countless days at the theater and walks along the canals. Phoebe had always been there, she had always been the only person- no matter how vexing she could be- Arabelle loved, respected and adored. Everyone else Arabelle seemed to hate or despise completely.

Arabelle looked across the room, her eyes locking with her little writing desk attached to the far wall. Perhaps it was finally time. She would write to Phoebe, she would ask her to meet her, she would tell her she was running away.

* * *

Teague walked the length of the ship, watching the dawn stars begin to fade above him with hidden pleasure. Narrowing his eyes Teague cast a glance over his ship and the men still on watch.

When the stars faded it would be the dawn of the sixth day since they departed from the Mary Eliza. Teague's lips twitched at a modest grin. It was finally time. The crew was rested and as willing as ever before. They knew what they did wrong last time and for nothing would they do it again. They were ready to follow any and all orders.

Teague turned on his heel and headed for the spar desk, with each step he could feel the dawn approaching closer. Climbing the stairs to the spar deck, two steps at a time, Teague arrived at the top just as the first flecks of sunlight danced across the horizon. It was high time they found their treasure again, this time securing it.

Teague took the helm under his grip and grinned at the sparse crew below him.

"Let's find me some treasure."

* * *

Riding the black lapping waves a black silhouette kissed the horizon hidden amidst the inky black night. All was quiet upon the sea that night as the stars blinked brightly from their heavenly abode, ignorant of the happens down upon the earth, upon the sea they were shining upon.

The breeze, playing mischievously in absence of the stern sun danced through the starry sky, across the gentle waves and through the rigging and rippling sails. Several men walked the deck, working at their tasks but a few stood at the railing, hanging over the edge happily accepting the kisses of the cool breeze upon their faces and it's fingers through their hair.

Above them a young man stood atop amidst the sails also enjoying the presence of the breeze but more so in retreat of the rest of the men aboard.

He had a job to do and he wasn't about to give it up to listen to or join the other men in dreams of grandeur or arguments on personal effects. With the captain presently detained in his cabin, it was now his job to voice news on any developments. No one else was trusted with such a job besides the lookout, and with he also detained presently it was Madrid who was responsible.

He had been perched her amidst the rigging out of sight since sunset and did not even sway or yawn as the night was well along. He kept his eyes steadily scanning the horizon for a hint of life and kept his hand wound tightly around the captain's spy glass. Quite useless for watching in the dark Madrid hardly ever used the spyglass after sunset, but he was always given it when on watch.

The spyglass was very valuable, Madrid could see that just by looking at it. It was black with silver filigree laid into the main chamber and ivory scroll work inlaid along each section. Snapped closed, it looked like a beautiful piece of art, extended to it's full length it became an instrument coveted by all who were fortunate to see it.

Only the captain owned a spyglass, it was the case on many if not all ships, but on the Ash Bough Basile too owned a spyglass, however much more modest than Teague's, it was his own prized instrument.

Madrid fingered the ivory scroll work, shining under the moonlight, and looked up to scan the ocean ahead once again when his eyes caught a flicker of light. Instinctively Madrid squinted and waited, a few moments later the flicker of light returned, only again snuffed out seconds later. Madrid smirked as he tucked the spyglass securely into his sash and stood balancing himself atop the sail's top.

Madrid, living his life upon the seas knew a great many things. Even more so he knew how to keep watch and spot things, small things many would not concern themselves about. He had been a thief in the streets of London before he made his life upon the sea and he knew things, even small things people would not notice. That light he had seen was from within a ship. And seeing it twice only made Madrid sure of it's location.

The light, and it's twice snuffing out, had been a door. It had opened twice and then closed. There would not be another light. It would be dark now for good until morning. Of that he was sure, but it proved to be enough for him.

Madrid slowly climbed down the rigging, not drawing any attention, and crossed the deck. Stopping at the cabin door he knocked three times and waited. A brief second later, when Teague's voice beaconed him in, he entered the cabin with an eager smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Finally they had made contact. The rewards would not be far off.

* * *

Arabelle awoke the next morning to the sound of rumbling in the distance. Thinking it was a simple storm she didn't bother rousing herself from bed. Only an approaching storm, it was important yes and even worrisome but terrifying and monumental is was not. She had been through countless storms before and buried her face in her pillow with a tired moan and tried to sleep.

Sleepily, some time later- when she decided it was late enough- she pulled herself from her cot and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand just as another loud rumble sounded.

"It's moving swiftly." Arabelle mumbled as she reached for her dressing gown to ward off the cool breeze so cruelly chilling her warm skin.

However this time, as Arabelle reached for her dressing gown, there was a loud snap and a hollow cracking noise following the blast.

Instantly Arabelle stiffened. Abandoning her dressing gown she jumped over to the porthole and looked out, the color draining from her face. She knew what that cracking noise meant. Looking out the porthole her fears were only affirmed. There was no storm, there wasn't anything, but with another sharp blast there was a loud plunking slash not ten feet from her small porthole.

Arabelle pushed herself from her little window and ran to her trunk, flung it open and grabbed the first dress she saw and threw it on as fast as she could. Arabelle was glad it was a simple gown with no elaborate strings or ties, for the simple reason that as soon as she stumbled through her cabin door out into the corridor she had just only then finished tying the back of the dress.

As quickly as she could Arabelle navigated her way through the corridors towards the stairs. She tried to get to the deck to find Captain Thruon but Arabelle was not fast enough. It seemed like only a few minutes before frantic shouting was heard, gun shots and then even the murmering clash of blades reached her ears. Arabelle hesitated at the bottom of the stairs.

"_Is this such a good idea?"_ she asked herself, perched on the first step. "_I have no way of defending myself on deck, no weapon, no.."_

The latch on the door, right above Arabelle at the top of the stairs, rattled followed by loud shouting.

_They were coming! They were coming below!_

Arabelle leapt from the stairs and frantically looked all around her for a hiding place. Any hiding place. Finding none Arabelle looked back to the stairs just as the doors opened.

* * *

"They betta' have somethin' good down 'ere."

"Gillias had to get blood on Gillias' brand new cutlass to get down 'ere. Hey Jennings why didn't you slice the guard? Then Gillias wouldn't have had to get blood on his new cutlass."

"I didn't 'slice him 'cause as soon as I saw 'im you already had your cutlass through his ribs... _that's why_. Sides its only new 'cause you lifted it off that bloke you hit on the way over. You're always stealing everything. I've never seen you keep your hands in your pockets. You always..."

A shadow appeared at the door, blocking the sun shining down into the hold and both men stopped mid-way down the stairs and turned, anxiety flashing across their face.

"Gentlemen."

Jennings sighed deeply. "Williams, it's you. I thought you were the captain."

"The captain? What does he care about you or me? No, he's up on deck where he should be and we're where we should be..." The man chuckled evilly and moved down the stairs past the two men.

"... taking all his plunder."

The first man chuckled gleefully as Williams passed, sliding his finger down his nose with a stupid grin.

"Aye, taking his plunder. Gotcha Williams."

Williams snapped his face around and scowled at the gnarly little man he was faced with. The man shrunk back and looked pitiful. Williams turned to Jennings.

"What's 'e doing 'ere?"

Jennings gave the small man a scowl as he faced Williams. "He followed me. 'Sides you and I both know he's the best lock picker this side of Cuba."

The small man perked up again and grinned proudly. "Aye, Gillias good, Gillias very good wiff locks."

Williams scowled and continued down the stairs. "Shut him up."

Jennings raised his hand to silence Gillias when the man clamped his mouth shut and cowered before him.

"Not hitting. Please, Gillias quiet. Gillias very quiet."

Jennings lowered his hand but gave Gillias a icy scowl.

"You make a sound and he'll kill you- get that through your head. Now come on there's work to do."

Jennings descended the remainder of the stairs and followed Williams trail down the corridor, leaving Gillias to run after them awkwardly through the unfamiliar corridor.

Arabelle exhaled a deep breath, she found herself holding tightly within her chest, and gripped the plank staircase. Now even more than ever Arabelle knew she wasn't suppose to be out of her cabin, or especially out on deck but she knew she couldn't just sit and wait for these men to come and raid her cabin. She had to do something.

Slowly Arabelle crept from her hiding spot beneath the stairs. If she stayed here she would surely be found. She had been so close to those men should have reached out and touched them. She heard every word they said and it took everything she had to refrain from giving away her hiding spot as they mentioned the blood and ease they seemingly associated with killing. Arabelle, then as the men stepped into view, shriveled up- holding herself as tightly as she could as she came to grips with who was standing just mere inches above her.

They were pirates. Just their garb and their scruffy unwashed faces made that clear. The people who were responsible for killing her brother, destroying her home and tearing down the only fragile bit of family she had left. Arabelle bit down on her lip as hard as she could and held in her breath, just waiting, expecting them to see her. Luckily they did not. Arabelle had watched them go and now she looked around again for a better hiding spot.

Suddenly, without warning there was a rustling behind her. Her face draining Arabelle spun around and shrieked in silence as she came face to face with the gnarly little man. Arabelle turned quickly, looking for something she could use as a weapon. Spotting a mallet hanging on the wall next to her. Arabelle, without thinking, grabbed the mallet and turned to the small man with the mallet awkwardly hanging from her trembling fingers.

The small man suddenly looked worried and quickly pulled his pistol from his belt. Her mind running wild with worry, over how she was possibly suppose to fight off a man armed with a pistol when all she had was a mallet, Arabelle didn't see the man raise his pistol above his head and bring it down swiftly.

With a muffled thunk Arabelle dropped the mallet and stumbled forward.

All she saw was the floor racing towards her and then- her world went black.

* * *

HA! How was that mates? Finally we've made contact.

In this chapter there are a few new characters. Some of which you may have noticed I have created under the inspiration of other characters, both PotC and elsewhere. For instance the character of Gillias I have thought to be a man somewhat like Ragetti, but also in some respects like Gollum (with the repeating his own name and all), while Jennings I have decided is a bit like Colin Firth in The New World (how he's undecided about his course in life but decided he would rather follow others than have others follow him) but also carrys a hint of that Pintel-like connection with the smaller more impresionable man. As to will they become a duo like Pintel and Ragetti in the future chapters I don't think so.

Also, the section written about Madrid keeping watch was a little treat I had to include. Hope you enjoyed it all!


	17. To Gain Swag One Must Pillage

: Pirates!

I thought it was about time I add another chapter, I've forgotten when I updated last. Sad isn't it? I hope you love what comes next. A little humour, a little suspense, a little... hope?

Much thanks to my friends at the Compass and those enjoying the Garden Party.

L'il Pirate

* * *

Arabelle's head throbbed. She attempted to open her eyes and scout her surroundings, her position, assess her chances. But that, only made it worse. Her world swam before her eyes like some grey hazy concocktion. Everything fuzzy and distorted, even what lay in close proximity. She tried to move but her limbs refused to respond. Forced to remain still, Arabelle grasped at the ribbion of speech above her. The broken conversation and volly of voices. Only catching small words and short sentences Arabelle closed her eyes tighttly and faught the erge to scream. She couldn't make out a word of sense, this drove her mad with confusion and fear. Arabelle clentched her teeth and moaned. The voices were so loud. They screamed in her ears even though they were far away. Arabelle wished she could scream, but yet again her body refused to respond. Was she dead? She longed to know.

"Here... lady's here!"

"She's dead!"

"...No."

"What did you do?"

"Hit her..."

"...Sleeping?"

"Sorry..."

"No..."

"... he'll kill us."

"...put her in a cabin."

"You're an idiot."

"...No one know."

"We take her."

"You can't..."

"...Help me."

"...Pretty."

"Don't touch."

"He'll kill you..."

"He's stupid."

"No, he's captain."

"Shut up."

"...You're mad."

"She's coming..."

"...What?"

"... profit for me."

"He'll find out..."

"Always does."

Soon the voices faded, muffled so greatly that Arabelle's mind simply refused to register and once again grew darker until she refused to fight any longer. She, weakly, let herself softly sink into that comforting darkness without sound, feeling or thought, again forgetting what was happening around her.

* * *

_On deck, minutes later._

As if it was the easiest thing in the world Teague crossed from one ship to the other completely untouched or distracted by the flying metal, screaming cursing people and the eery overemphasized sound of wood snapping close to your ear.

It seemed like as soon as Teague's boot landed firmly upon the deck of the other ship the battle was both fought and won. Teague's eyes roved across the deck at the few men still fighting, but his eyes passed them over dully and focused on the helm. With a glint in his eye Teague swaggered across the deck- his eyes brightening with pleasure as he saw the captain and two other men bound by the helm.

Teague looked up and smirked ruthlessly as he climbed the stairs with the dignity of a thousand Kings and the cool blackness of a hundred assassins shining through his eyes. Teague stopped before the bound men and looked down upon them with pleasure. Teague nodded to his man still holding them. The sailor kicked the man directly in front of Teague but he did not look up. None of them did.

Teague smirked a their reluctance and calked it up to anger over their defeat. It did not matter. Teague had never met a man who had willingly met his eyes upon first introductions, friendly or not. Teague had a reputation and along with that he inspired a great deal of fear. They went hand in hand. And quite frankly Teague was disappointed when he was not feared.

"Captain?" Teague inquired cooly to the man kneeling across from him.

The red beared man hesitantly looked up at Teague now but he did not speak. He only met Teague's face with bitterness and disdain.

Teague's smirk grew all the more sweeter. The man, from what he could see, hated his kind- pirates- and it was clear by the way he looked at Teague, like he was looking down upon him. Teague held back the erg to shake his head and laugh. Even as the man kneeled before Teague, defeated and broken he still refused to give up on his pride and his prejudice for the victor and his choice of life and employment. It didn't help either that Teague was near fifteen years younger than this man. If being a pirate didn't help, surely the fact that Teague was his minor by so many years made his defeat so much harder to acknowledge.

Teague relished there moments. The moments he was able to make those elder, self-centered men bite back their words. The times when he showed them, proved them that the young... the young can rules just as much and more than they could. Teague's smirk suddenly grew angry as he let these thoughts pass through his mind. Unhappy memories once again returning to stab at his tender wounds he quickly shut himself off from the world again and with it- his emotions.

"Five of your men are slain, your ship is in sore need of repair and you and the rest or your mighty crew bound. And it has only been... how long Phillips?"

Phillips, Teague's loyal man behind the other captain gave Teague a grin as his captain's dark eyes never left the man before him.

"Forty odd minutes sir."

"Forty minutes." Teague shook his head and scowled at the other captain with his own antipathy. "That's quite pathetic mate."

"We are a merchant vessel, not a man-of-war. I have strict orders to safely transport each and every one of my passengers, and not even you can hinder those plans."

Teague snarled hatefully at the man's misdirected thoughts. Did he not notice in what position he now was situated? He clearly missed the point of who was detaining who.

"Ney. I don't want to stop you, nor do I want anything to do with any of your passengers... or you for that matter. All I want is any cargo of interest or value."

Teague stepped forward and smirked haughtily at the detained captain upon his knees.

"I'm taking your cargo... your drink... and all you have of value. And you are going to hand it over without a word 'gainst me savvy?"

The captain scowled at Teague, and met the younger man's eyes hatefully.

"What do I get out of this? If I give this all to you?"

"Oh, no. Your not giving it to me." Teague's eyes narrowed. "I'm taking it."

Phillips snickered and tugged the captain back as he growled at Teague.

"If you cooperate you'll live, that is all. And if your lucky you'll never see me again."

"If I'm lucky?" The captain asked spitefully.

"Aye. If not, you'll not live to have the pleasure of telling the tale that you met Captain Teague thrice." Teague snapped gruffly and turned away.

"Phillips, lash them to the mast, throw the rest of the men in the brig."

"Aye captain."

Teague turned and left the spar deck, as Phillips and Firth hauled the men to their feet, and met Gabriel on the main deck. Passing orders to his quartermaster Teague watched as the men began emerging from the hold with swag. Teague stepped back and watched a moment as barrel, trunk, sack and chest were carried up and across to the Bough.

Teague took in a deep satisfied breath and crossed the plank between ships amidst the line of swag. Finally they had what they wanted, the men were happy and their stocks were filled. Now Teague enjoy several weeks of silence, peace and pure shameless selfish pleasure. Finally... life was good again.


	18. Classic Heroes

:This chapter is for _pheobep3_ and _Oceangoddess_ especially. THANK YOU for your diligent reviews ladies!

This chapter contains another little break. 'Sorry I had to'. I do so love these little breaks with Jack and Teague. I hope you do as well. Within is a bit of that humour I mentioned last chapter, as well as a moment of reflection between father and son. Jack is forced to confront a very hurtful, disappointing view that has scarred Teague for a long time. Enjoy!

l'il pirate

* * *

Jack looked up at his father expectantly at the sudden break in the story. When his eyes met his father's, Teague's wry grin appeared.

"This is about where you interrupt again."

Jack exhaled his own grin and sat back in his chair, smiling back at his father- which he found actually quite odd. He and his father hardly ever shared a smile, nor a laugh yet at this instance he felt like they had shared many a happy times. And he felt at ease with this old man before him for one of the first times in his life.

"You expect me to interrupt? You wanting me to?"

"Aye, I need to-fill-my-glass." Teague saluted his empty glass to his son and stood, his good humor following him as he passed his son, on route to his liquor cabinet.

Jack quickly drained his own glass, quite surprised he had forgotten about the rich drink at his side as the story had been told, and stood- eager to receive another. Teague glanced over his shoulder as Jack stood and gave another knowing grin.

"Sit Jackie, I'll bring the bottle."

Jack did as he was bidden and happily sat back down, quite pleased he could stay in the comfortable chair and be served at his leisure.

"Now, you were about to interrupt." Teague said once again, as he passed Jack on his way back to his chair and handed the bottle off to his son's waiting hands.

Pouring himself a generous glass Jack smirked, and flashed his infamous golden smile.

"As a matter of fact-" Jack nodded the bottle in his father's general direction and took on that half mad look he always got when he thought up another incredibly ludicrous idea.

Teague rolled his eyes immediately and raised an eyebrow, perfectly mirroring his sons' expression but possessing his own dark quality to counter Jack's lightheartedness.

"Here we go."

Jack, chuckling gently, set the bottle on the table between them, knocking the empty onto a pile of old clothing without concern. Then, waving his free hand about before him a moment, emphasising his objection, he faced his father waiting as patiently as possible under the pool of golden light.

The golden glow of the tall pillar candles lining the room, Jack quickly glanced at, gave the room a eery air of Gothicism. With the candles, burnt low, trailing soft white wax down the shelves and kissed with a fine layer of dust Jack thought of the monstrous cathedrals in England and Spain. He had gone there with his mother many years ago, and although the life was far above him, he loved the adventure as a child and he had fallen in love with the world's beauty as well as it's magnificent buildings like those cathedrals. Fitted with the stain glass, clouds of incense, hundreds of candles and the lonely hymns of the priests as they walked through the long cold stone chambers. He always loved that feeling, the look of the candles, the smell of burning wax, under the glistening tempered glass. It was comforting. It was home.

"Now wait a minute." he protested, returning to the present and his father's narrow reguard. "First you apparently wanted me to object- no?"

"What you French now?"

"I..." Jack smiled, shaking his head at his fathers ease of changing the subject as well as his apparent wish to. "But seriously da. What happened with mum? She got on the Bough after that right? What about those men of yours?"

"Aye, it would seem that your mother and I would meet next wouldn't it?" Teague replied offhand, not giving much away with his darkening look. However he retained the smile upon his lips which Jack was grateful for. He was not up for displeasing his father so quickly yet again.

"What happened to her?"

"Never getting the entire story, I couldn't tell you, but from what I could get out of Jennings and Gillias it would seem that Gillias, out of sheer panic knocked her out with the butt of his pistol."

"You mean he-" Jack lifted his hand, gently touching his brow Teague nodded.

Jack, who should have regarded- even at the least- this with the most sincerity or at the most be utterly disgusted with such an action being inflicted upon his dear mother, could only cover his mouth with a weathered hand and clench his teeth to keep from laughing.

Teague, who did not miss anything, especially from Jack, noticed his son struggling and immediatly cast him a hard, unforgiving look accompanied by a cold reprimand.

"Is this somehow comical to you boy?"

"No it's... it's just..." Jack caught sight of his father and stopped short. His father's look killed, instantly, any laughter Jack had within himself. And clearing his throat Jack continued.

"Nothing comical sir. It's just, I have two men within my crew that on previous occasions discovered that exact use for pistols, and have forthwith continued to use the pistols in that way whenever they vex each other. I have even once used my own-"

Jack stopped short again, this time feeling it was the perfect time to change the subject, and in attempt to save himself a heavy scolding he retrieved his glass and took a generous mouthful as Teague looked on- clearly unimpressed.

Teague, watching his son with clear disapproval written upon the gentle creases of his face, tilted his head back menacingly and regarded Jack with cold intensity.

"Fine words for such a scallywag. Where'd you ever learn to talk like that, not under my eye that's for sure."

"Mum was very particular." Jack said simply and quietly, however he was quite surprised at Teague's choice of comment when he had been half expecting him to scold him for thinking like a child, he was now hardening about the fact he sounded like an _adult_.

Teague's eyes flashed.

"Not while I knew her she was not." He snapped. "Ney, I expect this is just yet another small trait you picked up while in the employ of the Company. Isn't it?"

Jack swallowed calmly and met his father's eyes. The Company, and Jack's short employ within, was something Teague never forgot. As if the tender scorched flesh on Jack's wrist was not enough to remind him, Teague never let him forget it, but those reasons were his.

"I can talk sense when I have a mind to. Just because I own and captain a ship of-"

"You are a worthless piece of flesh!" Teague snapped, lashing out unjustly and purely unprovoked. "You have no use nor any need for that kind of talk."

Jack's muscles tightened. And as a cloud of inky blackness spread across his eyes Jack's lips twitched at a small smile.

It was the smile he always wore when he faced those who insulted him, those who bested him, those who despised him. It was his reply. His slap in the face for them. He gave them a blank look that said everything contrary to what he felt. He had learned young that a face, eyes even, can give away an emotion, an idea and it can betray your life. So he had trained himself to react in such a way that was unreadable. Just like the present. It was safer than showing what you felt.

When he had no reply, when he had no words that would not betray him he would smile. It bought him time and it threw others off. It gave his mind time to think of a smart reply, a grand idea or a witty remark from where he would continue to live each moment by the second.

Surprisingly it was that small, childlike smile that brought Teague back down and caused him to sigh painfully.

"We're _all_ worthless Jackie. Each one of our kind. To the world, it's our lot. And we've no use to be trying to become them."

"Them?" Jack asked pointedly, a sense of distress underlaying his questioning tone with pain.

"Aye."

Jack's eyes grew sad. "You think I want to be them? You think I'm _trying_ to be them?"

Teague didn't reply. Although he knew what he felt, and saw, it was not his place even as a father to tell his son what he thought at this moment. It was his son's decision on what he chose to believe.

Jack shook his head sadly. "No da. I'd rather be sent to the locker with now way back or hang in the center of London's most grand palace alone, _before them all_, than be one of them. You have my solemn promise... I'll never wish I was one of their kind. I'm pirate through and through. I have freedom running through my veins and a black heart to match. I'd never give that up for their _so called_ treasure or society. I'm proud of who I am and it doesn't matter if I can talk as they do, I can fight, live and love as shamelessly and freely better than any man who swears pirate."

Teague slowly but surely let another smirk crawl to his lips with care, his eyes softening he scoffed in good-nature and questioned Jack with his approving smirk.

"Fancy speech, you write that down?"

Jack grinned, very pleased with himself and sat back comfortably, the storm was over. "Maybe I will, it could come in handy one day."

"It's sure saved your carcass today."

Jack flashed another grin "I'll remember that."

Teague scoffed, shaking his head he ignored his son's inflated ego and decided to direct the conversation away from his cocky son to more worthwhile topics.

"But back to the story shall we?" he inquired.

Jack nodded and took a sip from his glass. He was enjoying the story every much and even though he enjoyed these little interruptions, he was looking forward to hearing what happened next. He was eager to know how his parents truly met, and especially how they reacted to each other.

"This is where you jump in and save the damsel in distress."

"What?" Teague furrowed his brow. "What the... what are you talkin' about?"

Jack rolled his eyes. " _Mujer _da. This is where you save _mum_. You know, appear out of nowhere, sword drawn and rescue her from your men."

Teague, possessing a look of complete question and rancid incredibility, cast Jack a narrow regard but continued nonetheless.

"What the hell are you talkin' about boy? Where'd you ever get an idea like that. I, sure as-"

"Ah, come on da. It's how things _should_ happen."

"That doesn't matter. It doesn't mean it did." Teague retorted crudely.

Jack shook his head at his fathers pride and sat back in his chair to wait for him to proceed on his own speed and terms. It was better to keep his mouth shut than risk losing the opportunity to hear the story.

"I'll tell you what happened, what _really_ happened, not this absurd idea you've got in your head now, and it's got nothing to do with a sword but a pistol." Teague stroked his beard and took on a far away look once again. "Where was I? Ah, yes we had just sacked the-"

Jack smiled and was once again transported back into the new and exciting world of his parents. For Jack, during this story there was no Kraken, there was no Barbossa, no people he owed money to, no EITC to run from and definitely enough rum to satisfy him.

Jack rested his head against the comfortable back of the chair and let himself be lulled back into the story and the world that happened not so long ago in a place that was surprisingly very different from the seas he called home.

* * *

:*_Mujer*_ is spanish for 'woman'.


	19. Betrayal of The Code

:Finally! Rally the popcorn and grab a comfy seat for the next episode. This week it's bitter aristocrat girl vs. dangerous, rum loving, trigger happy pirate.

Haha. I hope you enjoy this beginning as much as I did, then again I'm more excited to expand this for all the readers. Don't hesitate to drop a line!

l'il pirate

* * *

Darkness fell upon the coast of Ila Amsterdam with a shroud of thick fog, encasing the ship in it's eery cloak which was only gently caressed by the accompanying whispering breeze, heard softly the lines and rippling canvass sails like the whisper of a lover. The world seemed darker than usual.

Tonight Teague had dismissed all his crew from the deck and stood alone and strong at the helm, the previous day's actions and outcomes still fresh in his mind. He looked as if he was made of stone, unmoving and solemn, but enjoying the seductive loving whispers of the caressing breeze. With his eyes closed, Teague's hands guided their course easily, breathing in deeply the cool dancing air Teague felt calm. It was just yesterday that they had taken the merchant vessel and filled their holds with swag and now Teague was finally able to enjoying the solitude after the endless screams of terrified men and women, and the pitiful attempts of unequipped sailors. Now there was naught a sound. Only the hollow rhythm of gentle waves, creaking boards and rippling sails. It was soothing. Peaceful. It was-

"Captain!"

Teague opened his eyes dully. Not at all concerned with the apparent urgency in the voice calling to him, as he should have been. It was unexpected, late in the night a man volunteering to wake up and bound up on deck like the ship was sinking, and no doubt important but Teague found himself struggling to hold back his hand from instinctively reaching for his pistol.

Within seconds Dominic bounded up on the spar deck, stopping short before Teague, out of breath and eyes heavy with fatigue and clearly accompanied by shock.

"Captain, you've gotta come quick! Sir there's a..." Dominic fumbled, from both lack of breath and the urgency of throwing out his words quicker than his mouth could shape them.

"There's a _woman _on board."

Teague's face immediately changed. Instantly from angry disappointment at being disturbed to solemn, deep coldness. Showing no emotion whatsoever Teague turned to Dominic.

"Where?"

"Down in the hold, she's in the back of the lower deck."

Immediately Teague lashed the helm straight and threw his hand out for Dominic to lead. Dominic ran down the stairs clumsily as Teague followed suit silently behind, his boots hardly making a sound against the steep steps.

In one seemingly swift motion, Teague descended the stairs and finally coming to the lower deck-where the crew slept-, scanned the dark hold as it exploded into view. He could count every lantern swaying gently by each post separating the men's hammocks, as well as the ones missing- leaving large gaps of black amongst the hold.

Nearly every bed was empty, except the smartest who jumped back to their spots when Teague was spotted, the one whom was never seen entering or within the lower reaches of the ship.

Teague could see the large circle of light beyond the crates pilled near the end of the hold, and he knew without being told that he was to go _there_.

Unwelcomed voices filled Teague's ears as he advanced. Soft chiding tones, harsh remarks and jokes accompanied by hissing laughter. All were from men without conscience, without gentleness- their tones made it clear. These men were rogue to the core, they did not know nor care about anything concerning pleasantness and or courtesy. These men knew nothing of women but paying for company- not how to treat them or speak to them properly. Teague didn't even doubt that they may have been like this to any women relations they had, mother, sister, aunt- it meant nothing to them.

Teague would not deny it, it was a bad time for a woman to find herself aborad the ship- not one of these men here knew how to treat a lady, give her the sympathy or consideration she deserved, truthfully not one of them cared- present company included.

Turning the corner, Teague came into full view of the scene. A large number of men stood in a semi circle around the woman, dirty, battered and clearly terrified. They were all chiding her as she tried to escape into the darkness, but sadly cornered amongst the cargo.

However, as soon as Teague stepped into the light the voices died off, the crew parted and let their captain step forward to watch the man from under the brim of his hat. The only man who had not lost his voice nor his nerve to advance upon the woman as Teague was found present. Teague's face still remained expressionless, and his eyes hidden, but he watched the man circling the woman as if he owned her with spite and disapproval everyone could read.

"Williams." Teague spoke, his voice deep and cutting the silence like shards of glass. The men around Teague tensed, a few inched back- the man before Teague on the other hand seemed unaffected. The man, hiding all his fear rather well, just smirked.

"Ah, I can read your surprise Teague, even if you a man 'out emotion, you do well to hide it. Didn't s'pect one of your lesser men to secure a prize greater than you did you- _Captain_?"

The woman moved, tensing, her eyes raised for the first time met Teague's hidden face with a mixture of hope and fear. The men amongst the crowd shifted uncomfortably. No man called the captain by name, least he was one of the four, and only two of who used his name liberally. But that was not all, the spiteful tone in which Williams emphasized '_captain_' was applied far to thickly and the men knew it.

"Hold your tongue Williams or it'll be cut out." An unnamed voice warned from the darkness surrounding Teague but Williams only smirked, not worrying about the other's opinions, he focused on Teague only and stared coldly.

Stepping forward brashly he stared Teague straight in the face, close enough Teague could feel the hot, sick breath upon his face.

"Jealous of my talents now Captain?"

"You've crossed da line Williams." Came a deep voice from Teague's left.

Looking up Williams caught sight of the huge black giant of a man. Still, surprisingly unaffected, smirking condescendingly Williams faced Teague again.

"I'd be grateful if I was you to 'ave such loyal _slaves_."

A low grumble came from Basile's throat, begging to be allowed to crush the man but Teague made a light flick of his wrist hovering at the sash about his waist and Basile obeyed... silently waiting for his moment.

Williams once again smirked and moved back to the girl, grabbed her roughly by the arm and tugged her towards Teague.

"She's a beaut' ain't she?" He grumbled, grabbing her roughly by the chin and forcing her to look at Teague.

Teague was unaffected by this motion but within closer proximity he could see the scrapes upon her arms and the bruise marring her nearly perfect brow. Squirming, the girl tried in vain to pull away but Williams held fast to her arm, twisting it roughly as she tugged to be free. Wincing with a cry she relented quickly and stood, tensely, at his side unmoved. Teague didn't look at the girl, not besides catching that glimpse of her from the corner of his eye at first. His eyes never left Williams' face. His face, still emotionless, and his eyes hidden but full of icy venom. A look that could kill when wished.

"I can see what you will not say- there is much to be desired that I-"

"Enough!" Basile stepped forward to retrieve the girl, or crush Williams- whichever he got the chance to carry out first- when Williams, with amazing speed, drew his pistol and held it level with Basile's face.

Immediately the woman again tugged relentlessly to be free, afraid of what might happen, but still Williams wenched her arm and pulled her in closer, still holding the pistol level with the giants' face.

"Lower the pistol Williams. You've no where to run here." Came another voice, a younger voice, a bitter one from Williams' right.

Turning desperately to look around him Williams' faced Madrid head on, standing before the crowd, his hands resting on the hilt of his cutlass calmly. Tugging in his direction out of desparation, the woman whimpered as Williams dug his fingers into her arm, once again twisting it without conscience.

" I won't 'ave to."

"Think again Williams." Basile scowled, showing no fear about the pistol shoved in his face or the man on the other end, "You broke the code- whether in whole of in part you carried a female on board and that is deserving of-"

"The code?" Williams hacked.

"You bloke! You stupid dog! All of you! Obeying the code as if it were truth, as if it bound us like slaves! The code is finished." He spat at those before him, scanning the crowd, turning circles as he yelled aloud. "The code died with the blokes who wrote it, they made it up! The only ones who abide by the code were the ones who wrote-"

Williams was silenced by a single shot riddling the air. Tensely, as the man lowered arm and dropped his pistol to the black deck below him, he looked around the collection of men, finally his eyes falling upon Teague- lowering his ebony encrusted pistol. Slowly the man's muscles grew loose and he dropped his hand from the woman, who shrieked- all in one moment from covering her ears- and bolted from his side only to be caught, and detained, by Madrid.

As his knees buckled Williams fell to his knees and looked up at Teague. Reaching his hand up, Teague didn't move. Standing over him, offering no help or showing no regret to the silent begging man Teague gave him a look that was the equivalent of a thousand sharp daggers.

"_I_ follow the code."

Falling to the floor with one last deep groan, Williams was dead as soon as he hit the floor.

A hush fell upon the crew as Teague stared at Williams' cold body. Then raising his eyes, ready to turn away he saw Madrid and the women.

Teague paused.

Madrid was holding the woman tightly in his arms, cradling her to his chest, cradling her away from the others as she shook uncontrollably and writhed to be free. With her face was hidden in his chest, and her hand feebly grasping the folds of his shirt Teague questioned her emotions at that moment. However, he did not concern himself with the pleasure of wondering, instead he met Madrid's eyes as they raised for a quick moment.

It was after that moment that Teague turned back to the body laying on the floor seeping blood across the wood planks, as he replaced his pistol and turned for the stairs. Death, he mused dismally-thinking about the fact that his ship now needed to be cleaned of blood and cowardly flesh-, always made a mess.

"Weight the body and dump it into the sea. No betrayer deserves a proper tribunal." Teague ordered callously. Several men stepped forwards, seizing the body as Teague spoke. All others did not move.

"Madrid! Bring the girl. Abe in my cabin now! The lot of you I suggest you get proper rest, we make for Ila Amsterdam at dawn. And any words I hear of protest on Williams' end- be ready to join him!"

A chorus of 'Aye sir' echoed quietly through the hold as Teague swaggered towards the stairs never looking back. He never did.


	20. First Impressions

:Welcome to April Ladies and Gentleman. Here is my treat to you, the next chapter, which takes place right after the last- or as the first words indicate "Moments" after I left you last.

You know like those old shows like Batman and Robin that ended with "Join us next week, same time, same channel to see how Batman get's out of this one." Or something like that. You get the idea. Enjoy!

l'il pirate

_

* * *

_

_Moments later, in Teague's Cabin_

Teague didn't wait for the others to join him in his cabin before he broke into the liquor cabinet. Liquor calmed Teague's nerves and the flow of his blood that generally surged through his veins, and now with a woman on board Teague was sure he would need a lot more than calming liquor in the next few days. With one woman and twenty odd men he would have his hands full. That is, if she even lasted that long. As these thoughts ran through Teague's mind he gripped the cabinet door tightly in his hand with an angry scowl upon his lips.

When the inevitable knock came from the door Teague shut the cabinet tightly and walked to his desk sliding his coat off his shoulders as he admitted entrance to those waiting. Single file, Gabriel entered with the woman behind him and Madrid last-sauntering in casually but keeping a close eye on the woman before him. Shutting the door silently Madrid cut out off the leering faces in the darkness, faces intently waiting to see what would develop.

Finding his way back into the cabin Madrid stood back amongst the shadows of the door and himself watched things unfold. Gabriel stood before the desk with the woman a few feet behind him, all were waiting for Teague to begin. Teague on the other hand, was clearly unconcerned with the foreign creature in his cabin as he sorted through a few papers on the desk before him. He never looked up, nor hesitated once.

Gabriel leaned his hand against the desk and looked back to the woman. Her eyes were cast downwards, her hands clasped before her and her fingers trembling. Madrid to had his eyes downward as well but his stance, unlike the woman, showed he was alert.

Gabriel cleared his throat- taking matters into his own hands seeing the captain's disinterest- and the woman flinched, casting her eyes accusingly she made eye contact with him and held it. Gabriel gave her a nod.

"Right, let's 'ave it then."

"Have what?" Her voice cracked

"Your story." Gabriel retorted curtly. "How ye got 'ere- come on, out with it! We don't have time 'or games-"

"Marshal ease off!" Madrid snapped from the security of the shadows. "Can't you see she's frightened! And with good reason. You would be to if you had just seen someone killed before your eyes."

Marshal scowled at Madrid but turned to the girl. "I've killed many 'o men. What makes you think I'd 'are be afri-"

"Marshal! Lay off 'er!" Madrid, finally stepping forward as Marshal reached for the girl, was silenced before a second step was taken.

"Enough lad!"

Madrid tensed but halted. With a frown he shut his mouth at the order, hot from Teague's lips, and stood back. Marshal as well, dropped his hand, casting a slight smirk over his shoulder at the youngster. Madrid clenched his jaw and lowered his eyes- it was the smartest thing to do in this instance- he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to.

Teague then turned to the woman and without any regard tossed and hand in her direction.

"An explanation." he requested, without as much as a care in the world, then turned back to the papers before him and stored them in the top drawer of his desk.

The woman never spoke a word, causing Teague to look up with a vexed frown. Leaning forwards on the desk slowly, Teague meet her frightened eyes, supported by his balled fists upon the dark desk top.

"Have you happily lost your tongue lass or would you prefer a day or two in the brig to find it?" he threatened coldly.

Immediately Madrid stepped forward again. "Captain, I-"

"Back lad."

"Captain."

"Marshal!" Teague's eyes flashed with anger, but they never left the girls' face. Marshal did as was bidden and turned to face the young pirate.

"You heard the Captain lad- silence or leave."

As if it struck a nerve the woman flinched again, and turned her face to look at Madrid. Still without saying a word she and Madrid made eye contact for but a moment before Madrid gave Marshal a shallow nod.

"I'll shut up. Promise." He gave the man a grin and Marshal groaned, with a soft curse of stupidity under his breath her turned back to Teague and the woman, once again facing each other.

"Please." She finally spoke, looking at Teague intently but still holding fear in her eyes.

Fear of what exactly he had no idea but presently it was clearly fuelling her mouth, not her mind, for she did something truly foolish. She _begged_.

"Please- I just want to go home. Why can't you just let me go? I'll give you want I can, I don't have much but..."

Teague smirked and stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest he looked at her blankly.

"How much you got?" he asked her, in a tone laced with mockery.

The woman fidgeted and cast her eyes downwards, avoiding Teague's blackening ones.

Teague's lip curled into a snarl. "I'm afraid that's not going to be enough luv."

Quickly she looked up. Her eyes desperate and but her lips tight and strong.

"I have money on my ship. I do, I swear it, I will pay you-"

Teague exhaled a laugh and made his way around the desk. His eyes never leaving hers.

"Look around you luv. Where are you?"

The woman didn't speck, she just watched him more wary of what he may do next than fearful.

"We've just taken... plundered... _sacked _that ship you were on. _Everything _worth having aboard that ship is now safely within _our_ holds. Now tell me, whereare you going to find any money to buy your freedom?"

The woman didn't reply, she looked away from Teague as he stopped before the desk and rested against it. Then suddenly she looked up, her eyes full of fire and confidence as she met his dark mocking gaze. Teague raised his eyebrows in expectation of what may have caused this newly found spirit.

"The navy! Yes! The navy will come in search of me, they will know I am missing and they will come-"

"Do you really believe that luv?" Teague asked genuinely.

The woman furrowed her brow. Teague could see, simple from this quite but veiled relapse that she in fact did not nevertheless she put on a brave face and continued.

"Of course I do. I am well know, well reported on. The navy will find me, and when they do you will pay for what you have done."

"Is that right?" Teague inquired, his voice intently declaring the desire to laugh. "Tell me luv, you some kind of royal dignitary? A Dutchess?Countess? A Lady even?"

Again the woman frowned, but narrowed her eyes and pondered the question. "What would you do... if I said I was?"

"Why I'd kill you on the spot and take all your money."

She gasped.

"But we've already established you have no money so I'd be wasting my time... aye?"

The woman scowled, but was clearly helpless, Teague continued.

"Besides you take me for a fool Miss by trying to pass yourself off as a high ranking dignitary in a simple gown such as that. And no rings or jewellery in sight. Tsk tsk. Lying ain't that becoming luv."

Crossing her arms across her stomach the woman tried to speak but Teague cut her off again.

"Please luv, spare yourself the chatter and let me spare you fabricating another lie and set you straight. You aren't anyone special... are you?"

The woman swallowed, lowered her arms and her eyes.

"No." she replied in a small voice.

"You have _no _money."

"No."

"No family."

She looked up, her eyes full of surpise. "I-"

"I didn't think so. You're probably not even married."

Arabelle's eyes flashed.

Teague smriked, spying no ring on her finger yet again, and turned.

"There you have it. Unless the sad bloke doesn't have enough money for a ring."

"I have no interest in marriage." She replied flatly. "Nor any such attachment."

"That's refreshing." He smirked casting a offhand glance at Gabriel-who in turn chuckled deeply.

Teague, then resorting to rooting through a few papers upon his desk, continued. "But as to your preciouse Navy, I feel I must endulge you in a small, wellknown fact you may find interesting. The last time I, at least, heard about the navy coming out to sea to look for one lost soul, let alone a poor little orphan, who meant nothing was...."

Teague looked over his shoulder at her, he frowned.

"_Never_."

"Please. Just let me go!"

"Let you go?" Teague turned sharply and frowned with cold eyes and a hollow look. "For all I know you _chose _to board my ship with Williams! No, we will not just let-"

"Chose to!" She woman shrieked, her voice instantly full of anger and fiery confidence. As she so confidently met Teague's eyes, and held them with his burning anger, he noted how quickly her fear had disappeared and was replaced with spite for a second time.

"You think I wished to be dragged aboard this ship full of thieves and criminals like someone's slave or property?" She continued, her voice was soaked of anger and mockery, as she held his gaze. "You saw me down in the hold- I am not ashamed of it- you saw with your own eyes how I behaved. Did I look at all comfortable with that man? Did I look at all happy with my situation or the hurt, the humiliation, or the fear _he _along with your _entire _crew gave me before you arrived and stopped them? If it had not been for this young man here-"

She motioned to Madrid behind her but kept her eyes on Teague's. "-I would have suffered worse things than a bruised arm and ego."

"So you did not come aboard my ship on your own accord." Teague repeated as he turned back towards the other side of the desk.

"Lord no!" She exclaimed. "Do I look like the kind of girl who would go out in search of pirates- let alone by oneself?"

Teague couldn't help but smirk fleetingly as he lowered himself into his chair.

"Ney, you don't, but do you care to explain then just _how_ you came about below deck on my ship unnoticed?"

"Not particularly." She replied flatly "I would rather just get off if you don't mind."

Teague sat back in his chair and gave her a testy smirk.

"And where do you intend to go? Your in the middle of the Indian Sea with-"

"Actually we're between Madagascar and-"

Teague's smirk turned to a frown instantly. "Our whereabouts are not of your concern. Now I want you off my ship as much as you wish to leave but short of you producing wings out of that scrawny back of yours I have a feeling you'll be with us for quite some time."

The woman's mouth gaped open, she was about to speak but sadly only produced a pathetic squeak instead.

"That's right luv." Teague grinned cooly as he stood once again. "Welcome to the Ash Bough."

He gestured to the cabin around him with a mixture of pride and mockery, she hesitantly let her eyes follow the wake of his hand.

_Was this really happening? Do I really have to stay here?_

"You... you expect me to stay here?" she fumbled, losing that confidence she so strongly held moments before when the reality of her situation finally hit.

"No." He replied flatly. "This is my cabin. You will stay elsewhere."

"I..." She looked around cautiously, the worry in her eyes making her look small and very out of place.

Teague cocked his head to the side.

"Is that a problem luv?"

Instantly she scowled, and resigned that quality of fear she held in her eyes, as she hugged herself tightly and regarded Teague with smug coldness for his suggestive tone.

"Hardly."

"Good. Now, since you'll be with us a while there are a few things you will be expected to know and follow."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes, the constant duty of listening to sailors rimming off the rules and duties aboard a ship, as if she was entirely stupid, was beginning to make her ill. Teague saw this however and took it entirely in a different light. He scowled angrily.

"Am I boring you luv?" he growled, trying to control his helplessly frayed temper.

"I've heard these rules a thousand times before. I grew up on ships captain, you will find that I know much more than you may think- I am sure footed and steady. And I have no use of hearing the rules of any ship." She replied quickly and confidently, without thinking about the trouble that it may bring her.

Teague grumbled, still scowling- this time at her arrogance and lack of respect for authority. He liked ones who obeyed him without a word and were afraid of disappointing or angering him. He could tell already that this woman was going to be a problem... a _big _problem.

"While you are on board you will take your orders from me, or my quartermaster Gabriel Marshal." Teague motioned to Abe, who nodded. Teague then turned to Madrid. "The lad will take you to your temporary 'lodging' until we find something more suitable-"

"And your name?" She asked with a subtle testy smile, Teague frowned.

"In case I need anything."

"If you need anything the lad will see to it." Teague retorted callously.

The woman pursed her lips and held his stare before her eyes flashed. Slowly a smirk appeared upon her lips spreading a rebellious beauty across her olive skin.

"That man below... he called you Tea-something or other. Is that your name?"

Teague clenched his jaw and didn't reply short of casting her a dark look. The woman seemed unaffected, she only held her testy smirk and leaned forwards slightly feeling her power return.

"Would you rather I call you something else... since 'I'm going to be here for a while'?"

"_Captain _Teague." he told her flatly with an icy tone.

"Oh... _captain_." she smirked. Again Teague grumbled.

"It's not any relation to Captain Teach is it?"

"Blackbeard?" Teague scoffed. She nodded, looking quite interested as Teague moved around the desk.

Madrid and Gabriel exchanged glances, watching intently. As legend had it there was a man, a fearsome man and pirate known for his ferocious nature, bloody career and his long black beard braided into sections and his hair adorned with jewels and beads. This man's name was said to be Edward Teach, his alias however Blackbeard. Many men believed Teague to be the famed Captain Teach, since there were so many similarities, but it was never proved, nor addressed by Teague- something that had always caused the men to believe it held a considerable amount of truth. However their curiosity, no man was courageous enough to press the subject with the captain. Both Marshal and Madrid, thus, were quite surprised when this woman brought it up freely.

"You _know _him?"

"Hardly. But a reputation is a hard thing to hide, follows you everywhere, it's as bad as a shadow."

The woman frowned and glanced down. "You have no idea."

Teague watched her a moment and caught sight of the sudden emotional speed change.

"You got a name luv?"

"Yes and it's not _luv_!" She snapped. Teague pulled back slightly, emphasising the brunt of her tone. "It's Sparrow, Arabelle Sparrow."

"Sparrow." Teague scoffed again. "What kind of name is _Sparrow_?"

The woman's eyes flashed, clearly put out by his mockery of her.

"What kind of name is Teague?"

"What's wrong with Teague?" He growled.

"What's wrong with Sparrow?"

Teague narrowed his eyes and genuinely smirked for the first time in weeks. The girl surely had spirit, and a confidence, when fired up, to match. This would be a very interesting few weeks to be sure. He waved Madrid forward, who was watching the goings-on in shock and pleasure to see Teague once again smiling in the safety of his shadows.

"The lad will take care of you now."

Despite the fact that she had just made the captain, clearly a hard man smile she didn't seem very concerned with making him angry again for she once again pressed his temper.

"I hardly think I need anyone of your men to be-"

Teague silenced her by stepping forward and invading her personal space, something she scowled at wholeheartedly.

"When you are on my ship darling you will do as I say and follow my orders. The lad will show you where you will stay and that's it. He has far better things to do than to play nanny to the likes of you. Boy!"

Madrid stepped forward as Marshal stepped back out of the way, moving silently into the spot Madrid had occupied by the door.

"Aye Captain."

"Take Miss Sparrow down to the brig."

Arabelle flinched, grasping the desk before her she looked almost desperate. "You promised you wouldn't lock me up!" she cried.

"Did I? I don't recall." Teague shook his head

"You mock me." She frowned stilling her trembling lips with a nip from her pale ivory teeth.

"Look." Teague stood up quickly and pointed at her harshly. "Do you want to sleep with the crew or do you want some, even the most modest, of the protection I offer you until we find you somewhere else to stay? I'm sure any of the crew would be happy to share a hammock with you."

Teague paused, lengthening the effect of intrigue on his decision for mercy or callous.

"What'll it be _Miss _Sparrow? The brig or a hammock?"

Arabelle swallowed hard. She knew the captain was being very generous, especially for a pirate. She decided not to press her luck.

"No sir. I'll stay in the brig."

"Good." Teague sat down again and handed a ring of keys to Madrid. "Move what she needs for the night into the cell closest to the stairway. It is to be locked after sundown and the keys returned to me."

"Aye sir."

Teague then motioned for them to leave, Arabelle immediately turned and moved for the door but Madrid lingered a moment. He knew Teague had more to say. Words that were for he only and not the woman. True to his instincts Teague looked up at him as soon as Arabelle had backed away and spoke in a low voice.

"Keep your eye on her. Until I decide what is to be done she's your responsibility and short of giving her our swag you can do what you what with her."

"I won't let you down captain."

"You better not." Teague replied as he sat back. "You've just taken on a devil of a wench. A word of advice..."

Madrid had to smirk at the twinkle in Teague's eye and the calmness about his tongue. He was defiantly at ease, even with this whole situation.

"She'll definitely be of interest- her skin is fresh and her character, however irritating, is virtuous and that is alluring to a great many men. She is a woman _no matter _her attitude. Keep her out of reach and have her blend in as much as possible. The second anyone comes near us and sees her they'll be the devil to pay. Besides, once she's dressed like the crew she won't be as interesting as she would be in a dress. See to _that _as soon as possible."

Madrid nodded again, more seemly this time.

"Aye captain. I'll see to it."

"Good. Now go."

Madrid touched his brow in a salute and turned, meeting Arabelle at the door, who did little else but glance back at Teague sitting at the desk within the dim room not at all concerned with them as they left.

* * *

:In this chapter there are a few bits I wanted to point out. _One_- The mention of Blackbeard I adapted to present circumstances as well as the vague character of Edward Teague. Whether or not these two men are one in the same you'll have to decide. I give nothing but hits or speculation, it's up to you to decide who each man is.

And _two_- the fact that Teague hands Arabelle over to Madrid. Now this is actually an action based heavily upon pirate law. When someone was found onboard they were designated a 'guardian' within the crew (In Arabelle's case by the captain). This guardian could do anything they wished with the individual from treating the individual well to treating them cruelly. It was their decision. Here is the code in it's entirety. (Number six upon Captain Bartholomew Roberts' list)

"No boy or woman to be allowed amongst them. If any man were to be found seducing any of the latter sex, and carried her to sea, disguised, he was to suffer death;(so that when any fell into their hands, as it chanced in the Onslow, they put a sentinel immediately over her to prevent ill consequences from so dangerous an instrument of division and quarrel; but then here lies the roguery; they contend who shall be sentinel, which happens generally to one of the greatest bullies, who, to secure the lady's virtue, will let none lie with her but himself.)"


	21. Sparrow

:I'm off to visit family for the weekend so I thought I'd leave a chapter for everyone to read while I'm gone. It's longer than the previous chapters- but I promised to include some longer ones so here you are.

Please, don't forget to review. I'd love to hear from you.

L'il pirate

* * *

Arabelle walked silently along side Madrid and hugged herself against the cool breeze blowing off the water under the cover of darkness as they headed across the deck to the hatch leading below. Arabelle glanced around her cautiously at the hidden faces amid the dark shadows of the ship and shuddered as she counted set after set of peering eyes.

"This way miss." Madrid stood perched on the opening of the hatch, watching her curiously as she jumped at the sound of his voice.

Arabelle lowered her eyes momentarily as she caught the man's before her. He had scared her and she was ashamed at how skittish she was. She had never been in this position, scared that is... then again, she had never been kidnaped by pirates either.

The young man motioned for her to follow then descended the steep staircase quickly. Arabelle on the other hand descended slowly into the dark hold and cautiously looked around her. As her eyes adjusted she saw even more men waiting about in the shadows peering at her with a mixture of interest and anxiety. Once again Arabelle shuddered and quickened her pace, falling closely into step behind the man charged with her safety. The only man, at present, she felt even the smallest bit comfort when near.

Madrid stopped at the next staircase and turned suddenly, not at all knowing the woman was so close behind, sending her to stop dead inches before him in haste. Bringing her eyes up to his nervously, Arabelle balled her fists to steady her hands, or rather to refrain from putting them out to him suddenly to keep herself from colliding with his chest.

"Oi, watch it!"

Arabelle, lowering her eyes once again like a scolded child, nibbled at her lips anxiously. "I'm sorry. I... it's just..."

Arabelle glanced over her shoulder into the dark fleetingly.

"What?" Madrid inquired following her gaze. When he caught sight of movement he scowled and stepped by the girl towards the dark.

"Alright you gutless scavengers! She's under my care- captain's orders! Now back to your beds!" Madrid grabbed a lantern from a nearby post and swung it at the dark, sending shadows jumping in each direction. "And if any of so much as look at her too long you'll have the devil to pay. And don't even think of touching her!"

Madrid turned back to Arabelle standing rigid by the staircase and hung the lantern back on the post as if nothing had been wrong in the first place. He gave her a kind smile and nodded for her to proceed.

"They'll leave you alone now."

"Are you sure? I hardly think you-"

"Oh but I did." Madrid smirked at her naivety and lead her down the next staircase. "You have a lot to learn if you are to stay here with us Miss. But one thing you will quickly learn is this: never disobey an order from the captain. The men know this, they know what will happen if they don't and they _never _disobey."

Arabelle swallowed tightly and gripped the railing tightly under her palm.

"What will happen?" She whispered

Madrid gave her a smirk over his shoulder. "I best not be telling you that now. It's not the kind of thing you want to be hearing 'fore bed."

Arabelle tried to return the man's kind smile but all she could do was choke down her breath with great difficulty.

"Ah here we are." The man said coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. "Home sweet home."

Arabelle followed him off the steps into a dimly lit hold, all of which could not be seen clearly but Arabelle could see the dull black bars looming in the hazy darkness. Twenty odd feet from the staircase was the cell, surrounded by posts holding brightly lit lanterns, it looked somewhat cheerful compared to the rest of the dark hold but all Arabelle noticed was the bars. The cold wet black bars that incased the cell with cruelty. No matter what was put inside those bars it would still be the same vicious cell- just waiting to devour it's captive in a fit of desperate insanity and crude behavior. Arabelle flinched as the man prodded her along. She did not want to be consumed by those bars.

"Come along, it don't look like much but it's better than sleeping with or around the lads. _Trust me." _

Again the young man gave Arabelle a kind smile. A smile she would have readily accepted if it were not under these circumstances but who was she kidding, no matter how many kind smiles she got she was still a prisoner.

"Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks. I've spent my share of days in many cells like this." he tossed Arabelle a smart grin, which she scowled at, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Look, we'll get you a blanket and you'll be all set. I'll even see if I can find you a pillow. How's that?"

Arabelle pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips with a highly disapproving air.

"I assume you are just trying to do your duty and follow orders, and I am grateful for all you've done for me thus far, but I must enlighten you to one minute detail."

Arabelle's frown grew steadily to a scowl as Madrid looked on, with the same smile upon his lips- never fading. However now his eyebrow twitched upward and his smirk deepened at her sincerity and mockery. Women he could handle, he was quite good at that but he had never encountered one with such spirit and, honestly, such deep seeded anger.

"I am not a child."

Madrid smiled cheekily and leaned forwards. "I can see that."

Arabelle's nostrils flared as she stepped back hastily, both disgusted by what he might be thinking as well as dreading it. She readied her hand to strike his face but hesitated when he admonished her with an honest and sincere regard, accompanied by another smile. He shook his head.

"No. Don't worry, I've no interest in scaring you. It would seem that you are going to need a friend while you're here and I'd like to offer my services. Since I am ordered to watch you that is. Being friends would just make it easier." This was when the young man extended his hand looking far less frightening than he had moments ago and actually took on a quite harmless personal. "Madrid."

Arabelle, hesitantly, extended her hand as well and let a small smile greet her lips as she put her hand in his, which he shook gently and shook.

"Madrid? As in the Spanish city?"

The man smirked and gave her a childish wink. "No, as in the person- _me."_

Arabelle looked to her feet as her smile brightened. She couldn't help but feel she was in for a real surprise in the days to come. This place was unlike anything she had ever seen before, and it's people would defiantly take some getting used to but all the while she was here she decided it was best to give it her all. She had to make best of the situation, if she didn't, she may end up _dead_.

Within ten minutes Arabelle had all she needed. Madrid had brought her a blanket, pillow and her own lantern- which she had been made to swear she would not use for any evil cause. Arabelle would have laughed at him but still, she did not feel very lighthearted. Instead she just gave him a small smile and promised most solemnly that she would not give in to her desire to create havoc and carry out a personal vendetta against the crew she was _generously _being detained by. Then Madrid, after making sure there was nothing else, stepped out of the brig and closed the door, locking it behind him.

As soon as the door shut Arabelle felt helplessly trapped by the black heartless bars she had feared. She sat down on her blanket and tucked her legs under herself and wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as she could. Madrid stood at the cell door watching her for a moment, sadness creeping in on his heart.

The girl wasn't much younger than he, from what he could tell. She had spirit but it was failing. Most people would be impossible in her situation, demanding release, screaming and crying at the top of their lungs or throwing empty threats- if they didn't attempt to kill themselves first. But she was not like the others, her firm looks and steady character proved she was strong, even if Madrid could sense the fear growing and churning inside her. Truthfully, she would need that strength if she were to survive here, even for a short while.

Madrid turned away from the cell without another word and disappeared into the dark leaving Arabelle all alone, locked away in the belly of a unfamiliar ship with no idea what would happen tomorrow. If she was to be released or remain captive... live or die.

Arabelle tucked her head down to her chest and covered her lead with his arms. Quietly in the dim light, locked away in the cold cell, she began to cry.

* * *

After returning the ring of keys to Teague's own hands, Madrid walked the deck alone, watching the stars and listening to the waves lapping at the hull. Although his eyes roved over the landscape his mind was running through the conversation that had just passed between himself and the captain moments prior.

Naturally Teague's concern had revolved around the mysterious young woman. And with good reason. Teague had a hard time trusting anyone, and those he did trust were quite vital. Teague's only concern now was the reason why the woman was on his ship and how was it possible to trust her there. Now, he only needed Madrid's help to find out.

Madrid, loyal to Teague through anything, was somewhat thrown by Teague's proposal. Short of watching the girl he was to do nothing. All Teague asked of Madrid was to bring the girl to him in the morning and let him proceed from there. He had of course agreed but he was unsure of what Teague had lined up. He was surprised Teague was not more angry with the situation, he did seem very agitated and distant, but not as furious and deadly as he should have been.

Nevertheless Madrid handed over the keys, promised to bring the girl in the morning and left. And he was now, where he was, walking the deck trying to figure out his continually baffling captain. However Madrid found that thought to be even more complex than the new addition to the crew and gave up the idea nearly as soon as he had picked it up. Instead he slowly found his way back down into the hold to check on their attractive little prisoner.

_Moments later, down in the hold._

Madrid descended the stairs with incredible silence- all those days and nights living amongst the rigging had made Madrid Teague's most silent spy, and it came in handy now as well. As Madrid came to the bottom of the stairs he stopped short at the gentle sound of soft weeping. Such an unfamiliar sound to a pirate ship Madrid peered cautiously around the large post by the bottom of the stairs and surveyed the hold before him. He knew for sure where the weeping was coming from but he couldn't help but feel a small jolt of sadness when his eyes fell upon her- with face hidden in her arms and her shoulders shaking-sitting alone in the dark.

It was a sad sight to be sure but Madrid was a young man, a pirate, he had no idea of how to deal with such female tendencies. And he would have much rather quietly slipped from the room than proceed, but deep down he felt that small ounce of propriety he had hidden within his soul win out. Madrid cleared his throat and deliberately making his steps loud and heavy, he slowly made his way out of the dark and towards the cell as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Arabelle looked up as soon as she heard footsteps, in panic she felt her body flinch as she caught sight of a man walking into the hold but was inwardly relieved seconds later when the light revealed it to be Madrid, the young man who had saved her earlier that day and then charged with her safety an even shorter time ago. Quickly Arabelle wiped the hot tears from her eyes and tried her best to look confident but she knew he could see right through her little front and frowned at the thought of being regarded as a helpless woman once again.

She watched as he casually walked towards the cell, stopped a moment and hung his hands through the bars.

"Everything alright?" he inquired nonchalantly.

Arabelle wiped her cheeks again hoping to have cleared all the tears away and gave him a shallow nod. "Yes, everything's fine, thank you."

"Good."

Madrid narrowed his eyes with a smile and turned away, heading off into the darkness without another word. Walking away beyond the line of cells the sound of footsteps soon died away and Arabelle slowly stood as each step grew fainter in her ears. Feeling, now, completely alone at being dismissed so quickly she walked to the front of the cell and gripped the bars, looking around the hold with distaste.

Actually she was quite surprised the ship was better taken care of that it's outward appearance suggested, and of what the stories suggested. In her personal experience of, well literacy depictions of pirates, they were all shameless, heartless rogues who didn't have a care in the world. Their ships on the other hand were always battered old ships in poor state and function. They were always dark, drafty, wet and dirty.

As Arabelle looked around the hold she couldn't help but notice that this ship was in better state that the Mary Eliza. It was defiantly cleaner from what she could see in the dark, there was no need of repair from what she had seen, it was quite spacious and comfortably dry. Not to mention the smell, the Mary Eliza had smelt horrible, dirty and sickening while this ship smelt like wood, iron and... Arabelle turned suddenly to her left.

"Rum?"

Arabelle jumped as she bit back the sudden impulse to shriek.

"I didn't hear you approach." She breathed, clutching her stomach in exasperation.

Madrid grinned childishly and tipped the bottle to her in salute.

" 'course you didn't. I'm good like that, if I don't want you to hear me you don't. Sides I didn't want to disturb you, for a second there you looked almost happy."

"Happy?" Arabelle scoffed. Folding her arms over her stomach she walked in a circle around the entire cell. "Aye, what made you think I wouldn't be happy? I've always wanted to be held against my will by a bunch of-"

Madrid pushed himself from the iron bars and faced her head on.

"Now now, no need to get nasty."

"Nasty!" She exclaimed hitting her hands against the bars trapping her. Hateful tears sprang into her eyes as she slammed the bars once again with her open fists. "All I want to do is go home! I want my family back... I... I just want to be free!"

Arabelle's knees buckled and with a painful sob she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Madrid quickly dropped to the floor as well, set his bottle of rum next to him and squatted beside the cell his face knotted in sorrow and pain for the poor girl. Reaching through the bars Madrid gently put his hand upon her shoulder as she shook, sobbing into her own arms.

Feeling rather awkward Madrid removed his hand a moment later and made himself comfortable on the other side of the bars, content to sit and wait until she had finished rather than try and consol her through her tears. Sitting cross-legged, he leaned against the bars and once again hung his hands through, his face still full of fond concern.

Madrid waited patiently until Arabelle had cried herself out and raised her head. Her eyes red and puffy Madrid gave her a concerned but timid smile. He waited for her to speak rather than barrage her with questions, and it took another few moments before Arabelle had collected herself and wiped all the residue of tears from her face, hinting that she seemed to be quite finished with the blubbering.

"Feel better?" He asked gently, offering to start the conversation as gently as he could.

Contrary to how she felt moments before Arabelle actually smiled genuinely and dabbed her nose with her sleeve as she sniffed.

"Actually yes."

Madrid smiled, pleasantly this time, and offered her his bottle of rum. Arabelle waved it off but Madrid persisted.

"Come on, it won't hurt you besides I bet your throat it dry after all those tears."

Arabelle was hesitant but Madrid waved it at her again.

"Come on. It'll calm you down a bit. You needn't worry I won't give you too much."

Arabelle raised an eyebrow at her new friend and gave him a serious look.

"Just a sip." She told him solemnly.

Madrid handed the bottle over. "Just make sure it's a good one. It won't do you any good if you drink it like an English virgin."

Arabelle, who was taking a small sip at the moment of Madrid's comment, chocked and spewed the drink across the cell. Sputtering she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and glared at him with dancing eyes.

"What did you say?"

Madrid smirked, his eyes thrice as playful as hers, and reached for the bottle. "Oh nothing, just something about English girls that's all, nothin' about you."

"Really?" Arabelle raised an eyebrow and gave Madrid a sly smirk.

"Aye." Madrid replied matter-of-factly then stopped suddenly mid swig. Lowering the bottle slowly from his lips he swallowed with an exaggerated gulp.

"Just out of curiosity, your not... eh... English _are you_?"

Arabelle wasn't sure how she should reply. Part of her wanted to give him a shock but another part of her wanted to assure him she had nothing to do with England- the place that had ruined her life. Quickly she decided on the latter.

"No. I lived there for some years but I hate the place."

Madrid grinned pleasantly. "Good. For a minute there I thought I was done for. A word of advice- stay away from English girls, horrible things they are-"

Arabelle nearly laughed aloud as Madrid actually shuddered then shook it off like a dog.

"Worst women in the world."

"They can't all be that bad."

Madrid scoffed. "You wanna bet? Of course they are. I've na're met an English girl I could stand. I'm glad we don't deal with the lot. I'm surprised you lived there."

"Why? What makes you an expert on me, I've only known you a few hours."

Madrid shook his head confidently. "Don't need to. I know the English and their famous for crushing spirit, they tie it all up with those high and mighty manners, the uncomfortable- and not to mention ridiculous- clothing and society. But you've got plenty of it so I can see you made it out alive. But they're horrible things."

Arabelle leaned back against the bars and watched Madrid expectantly. "I suppose you would have a good reason for hating all English. Care to explain?"

Madrid winced, taking another long gulp of rum he swallowed the burning liquid with painful satisfaction.

"No, not really. I don't think I'd be a story fit for the present company... if you know what I mean."

Arabelle averted her eyes and bit back a hidden smile. Looking back up to meet Madrid's eyes he smiled with a shrug.

"Only fit for bragging to your crewmates?" Arabelle asked rasing an eyebrow, challenging him.

Madrid's eyes darkened with laughter, smiling he raised the rum to his lips again.

Arabelle, still smiling, tucked her dress around her legs securely during the silence. When Madrid set the bottle down again he looked out across the snugly packed hold, most of it lost in the dark. He was surprised to find the hold looking quite small in the dark. He didn't spend much time below, but he wondered what it would be like.

Looking back to the girl in the cell his smile grew more serious, he would probably feel like she did right now, trapped. He needed the sky open around him. He couldn't live deep in the bowels of the ship. It would kill him slowly.

"So." Madrid ventured looking back at her, sitting pretty on the dirty plank floor. He had no idea where to start.

"Yes?" she inquired, as if thinking his conversation had a point.

"Oh nothin'."

Arabelle furrowed her brow and looked at him inquisitively.

"Don't you have work to do or... something?" She asked rather bluntly.

"No." He replied bluntly in return but his eyes sparkled brilliantly under the candle light. "Sides I thought you might appreciate having someone else around your first night."

Arabelle met his eyes, holding them she looked straight through him. Madrid turned away and looked across the hold, avoiding her intense eyes and what might be hidden behind them.

"I know what it's like." he continued gently.

A long moment of silence passed between them before Arabelle got up the nerve to speck again. The reality of being captured by people she only read about seemed to hard to accept. It still felt like a dream.

"Are you... you know..." Arabelle hesitated. She waited until Madrid looked at her, spurring on her confidence. "Are you here on your own free will?"

Madrid smirked at her naivety again and nearly laughed. "Course I am."

Arabelle looked away, both embarrassed and confused. But it didn't take long for Madrid to catch on.

"Just let me explain something to you. You've only read about us, _pirates '_in general, right? Have you ever seen any pirates before?"

Arabelle swallowed hard. "I've heard about you. My brother had a shipping company. I met pirates once when I was young."

Madrid regarded Arabelle head-on, picking up on the spite in her voice.

"They were Turkish pirates. They nearly killed my brother, I was..." Arabelle looked away suddenly, turning her face away from him.

Madrid waited a moment and decided to leave this, her side, for another conversation.

"Well there's something you should know. Who ever wrote all those books about us never met us. We're not all the bloodthirsty villains they make us out to be. Take a look at me. I'm nice, not your typical gentleman type but I'm kind, charming, smart and considerate."

Arabelle exhaled a smile and looked at him, looking so proud and cheeky. She laughed at him but he didn't seem to mind. He returned her gleeful smile and continued.

"Many of us on board were rescued by the captain, or fell into his services simply out of his mercy. Hunter, was found adrift off of the cost of Sicily. Dominic jumped aboard as we passed Scotland. Marshal has been on the Bough since the Caribbean. Ol'Ben the ships' medic I swear has been here seven years or more. He was one of the original six."

"The original six?" Arabelle asked, her eyes darkening with curiosity.

"Aye. Its..." Madrid turned away smugly. "It's a long story. One you wouldn't understand."

"Really?" Arabelle asked mater-of-factly and frowned.

"Yes, really." Madrid retorted, he stared at her hard then turned away distastefully.

Arabelle wetted her lips, turning away from Madrid's sudden dismayed reaction.

"And you?"

Madrid met her eyes, which she held confidently.

"What's your story?"

Madrid couldn't help but smile fleetingly. "Me. I'm also a long story."

"I'm locked in a cell." Arabelle replied honestly, sensing there was no hostility in his voice she decided to press the subject and see where it got her. "It's not like I've got better things to do. Besides I'd like to hear, if you don't mind telling that is."

Madrid took a breath, looking around the hold then glanced back at Arabelle who was watching him earnestly.

"I was on my way 'cross the ocean from India when I found Teague. Well... he found me."

Madrid smiled, looking off into the darkness behind Arabelle. Feeling a smile tug at her lips Arabelle gave into it and sat quietly as Madrid relived his past aloud for her.

"We had encountered a sudden storm and were shipwrecked about seven leagues off the cost of Madagascar. There's a shallow reef there. In the storm we were thrown off course and hit the reef. It tore nearly the entire lower bow out of the ship and lodged her directly onto the reef through the middle of the hull."

Madrid turned away from Arabelle, suddenly, and sat with his back up against the bars. Arabelle watched him cautiously, as he sat unmoved. She was about to speak when he reached to his side, uncorked the bottle of rum, set the cork on the floor and lifted the bottle in front of him, out of Arabelle's view.

Arabelle sat back against the bars on the far side of the cell, where she could see the left side of Madrid's face and watched him take a swig of rum. Setting the bottle on his thigh he lowered his eyes and picked at the sandy corrosion on the side of the bottle.

"My mother and I were heading for the Caribbean. It was our new beginning. She had managed to get us a place on this ship out of sheer luck. What we were going to do once we crossed the ocean she didn't know but she promised we would be alright. In the wreck she was wounded. I stayed by her side for three days. I didn't see anyone else. The few crewmen that had survived took a longboat and headed for shore but I never heard what happened to them. I didn't see them again. I stayed below with my mother and did what I could."

Arabelle watched Madrid's face intently. He didn't face her again. He kept his eyes on the bottle and his fingers moving across it. Arabelle wasn't sure if she should have asked. She could see it was a hard subject for him to talk about but she wasn't about to stop him. She may only hear this story once and right now any story was welcomed.

"On the fourth day I heard voices. And then footsteps on the shredded deck. I never left my mothers side. I didn't even call for help. It seemed like forever until I saw someone and when I did it was a young man. He walked into the hold searching for something. When he came upon us suddenly he just stared. I could tell he hadn't expected to find anybody. I didn't move, but just watched him. When he saw my mother, laying behind me in great pain he came to us and kneeled beside me. He spoke to my mother. Softly. He sat with us for only a few moments before my mother took his hand and spoke to him with broken words. The man didn't say anything. He didn't look at me, he kept his eyes on my mother as she pulled out a small purse from the folds of her dress and thrust it into his hand."

Madrid stopped again. This time he looked out into the hold and the darkness. Arabelle swallowed hard as she fought the erg to get up and go to him. Instead she bit her lip and hugged her knees to her chest, resisting.

"I don't know what she told him but all I remember is him standing up in silence and looking down at me with a look I couldn't read, one I didn't understand. He told me to stand and I did. His words seemed to control me, bewitch me. I knew than that I would have done anything he had asked me, and I was not ashamed of that. Then he told me to say goodbye to my mother. In a haze I looked down at her and she nodded with tears in her eyes, telling me to go with him. She told me she would see me soon. I didn't know what to do but when the young man put his hand on my shoulder he turned me away from my mother, walking me out of the hold." Madrid stopped.

This time taking another drink of the rum and then turning back to Arabelle. She sat only feet from him, hugging her knees to her chest and her eyes full of tears. Madrid gave her a gentle smile and reached through the bars. He didn't reach towards her he just hung his hand there and looked directly into her teary eyes.

"I went with the man onto the ship floating safely along side the reef, and I stayed there. I never went back to the other ship, and I never went back to my mother. The man went back and brought me some things, some of my mothers things and some things he found. Money, valuables, clothing. Anything he found he gave to me. Then he gave me my mothers purse. He told me he would stay with me until we docked somewhere safe. We sailed for six months before I left the ship. When we docked we were in the Caribbean. He found me a family to board with. He paid for my room and board out of his own pocket and promised he'd be back."

Madrid smiled and shook his head.

"I didn't see him again for three years. I thought he had left me, or just simply died. Something. But then he came back. I'll never forget that day. I was working at the shipyard, running errands for the harbor master, when I was called into the office..." Madrid covered is smile with his hand and lowered his eyes. When he looked up again Arabelle's eyes shined as much as his.

"He was there. At first I didn't know it was him, it had been three years. He was dressed so fine and so looking so dangerous in the shadows of the office I would never have thought he was the boy who had found us in the hold those years before. But as soon as we left and he spoke to me I knew it was him. He had me released from the harbor master's service, had me paid more than I would have ever earned, and had me come away with him on his ship. It was a shock to me, I couldn't believe he was alive let along taking me away with him. I mean it's every boys dream isn't it? To sail away with a crew of pirates, to become a pirate himself."

Arabelle nodded in agreement. So many times had she heard her very own brothers talking about it when young. Daniel had even come close to living that life. And she had never seen him happier than when sailing with his crew. It was sad he hadn't done it as he should have. That he had to die before he lived his dream of... Arabelle shook her head, tears springing up again she vigorously wiped them away.

"And that's what I did. I spent the next three years on that ship. They were some of the best years of my life. I worked as hard as any other man and learned anything anyone was willing to teach me. And this is where it brought me. I sail on one of the most well-known pirate ships in the Indian Ocean captained by a man legends are made off."

"When did you join this crew?"

"Three, almost four, years ago."

"And the other ship? What made you leave?"

"The Indigo Princess." Madrid told her gently with a fleeting grin. "She was retired."

"And the captain? The man who cared for you. Did he retire too?" Arabelle inquired intently.

Madrid smirked "No. He's still sailing."

Arabelle smiled gently at the ease she read in Madrid's face after the story. She was glad the story had a happy ending. Unlike the story of her life, hers was not a happy ending. Snapping Arabelle back to the real world, something happened that made her regret questioning Madrid. As if he had read her mind Madrid regarded Arabelle with curiosity and a kind smile.

"There. Now you've gotten my past out of me, I'll be disappointed if I don't get yours out of you."

Arabelle frowned.

"Mine is not a past I wish to relate." She told him bluntly. "Compared to your story mine is a Shakespearian tragedy."

Madrid's eyes saddened but he chorused a smile and gave her a little nudge. "Time heals old wounds. Always. Come on, it's can't be as bad as you let on. I gave you the _abbreviated _and _rated _version of mine. Don't you think it'll help you put it to rest if you talk about it to someone?"

"You don't understand. I've never talked about my past to anyone. Not even my best friend."

"Well. There's no harm in trying. Plus, what else have I got to do but take care of you?"

Arabelle smiled tenderly as she looked down at her hands. Entirely unsure of what she should do she searched her heart and mind for objections or warnings. The man was being awful kind to her. And he had just told her of his past. It was only polite to tell him about herself. Besides he seemed sincere. He was pleasant enough for his state of life. He was funny and kind, possessing the only sort of compassion Arabelle would have seen within her childhood companions. Besides he did have a point. Maybe if she did talk about her past she would be able to forget it, put it aside and to rest. Arabelle met his eyes, her own sad but his gentle and kind.

"You don't have to do this you know."

"I know but what sort of comrade would I be if I didn't care about you Sparrow." Madrid gave her a proud smile while Arabelle's smile froze.

"What... what did you call me?" she breathed.

Madrid's look changed quickly. As he watched Arabelle react he grew utterly lost.

"Sparrow." He repeated. "It's your name isn't it?"

"Yes but..." Arabelle bit her tongue.

She hadn't thought she would hear that name here. She had thought she would never hear it again, yet there is was. That was Daniel's name. Everyone had called him Sparrow. His friends, his master, even his first captain. It was who he was. And Madrid calling her it only made those memories of her beloved brother come rushing back with a vengeance.

"You don't mind do you?" Madrid inquired tenderly. "The captain had suggested that I help fit you into a crew as best I can until we find out what to do with you. I just thought..."

Arabelle met his eyes, causing him to falter a moment.

"You know... Sparrow is a little less feminine than Arabelle. Don't you think?"

Arabelle still looked distraught, but she forced a tiny smile for his efforts.

"Yes. I suppose he is right. I'm sorry. It's just the name. I have not heard it in a long time. It belonged to my brother."

"And you as well. You are a Sparrow as well, yes?"

"I don't mean like that. No, it was his _name_. Everyone called him Sparrow. Only his family called him Daniel. He... after his death I never heard it again. You just caught me off guard that was all."

"I'm sorry." Madrid lowered his eyes in respect.

Arabelle turned her face away from him and studied the deck board to her left. Picking at it she remembered the last time she heard the name. And she wished she could go back to that day. She wished she could see him again.

"How long ago did he...?"

"Three years." Arabelle replied automatically then again faced Madrid, this time surprising herself with a great degree of calm and confidence. "He was killed at sea a month before my home, with my parents inside, was burned to the ground."

Madrid 's eyes grew dark with regret.

"An accident?" he inquired softly.

"No. On purpose." She replied with confident cold and unforgiving eyes.

"Wha-"

"My home, a harbor village on the southern coast of New Zealand, was attacked. It was pillaged and then burned to the ground maliciously by pirates. They took no hostages and spared no lives. The Navy didn't arrive in time. No one could stop them."

Arabelle watched Madrid change instantly. She didn't mind, she didn't even care. Now he knew where she stood. He knew she had good standing on her view of pirates. And although she found truth in his words that not all were villains she knew that the ones who killed her family and drown her brother were. And she would die hating them.

"You know, for certain, who did this?"

"Only from the reports. I was away in England at the time, at a school for young ladies. My uncle sent me the letter. Enclosed was a letter written by my mother, she had started to tell me about Daniel's death, but the letter was unfinished. I got the news of all of their deaths at the same time. And all a week before I was to return home." Arabelle confessed, still holding her calm with incredible strength. "So you see, I have no family at all."

"What about your uncle?"

"He sent for me, out of obligation to my father, but he then died suddenly not a fortnight after I received his letter. I never heard anything from his household again. I was never sent for, never looked for by anyone. So I was forced to stay in England until I could claim what little my parents had left. And thus I waited, trapped in the school in Cardiff for two years. And then finally when I came of age and was allowed to take my inheritance... _Daniel's _inheritance. It wasn't much but it got me a passage back to New Zealand, back home." Arabelle signed painfully and looked around the cell. "And yet here I am. Nowhere near where I thought I would be."

Madrid didn't know what to say. It was a great deal to take in, especially him being a pirate himself. He knew he should object to such a prejudice against pirates and assure her that not all were bad, yet again, but he didn't think she would be susceptible to accept it just now. So instead he did his best to look more sympathetic than confused and frustrated.

"So if you don't mind I would rather not take my brother's name. Now that you know the reasons I must beg of you to relent to this request."

Madrid nodded meekly.

"It's not my place nor aim to make you upset. I shall not call you by the name bestowed upon your late brother." he replied kindly. Arabelle smiled genuinely at him with thanks, but he still looked preoccupied with his thoughts.

"But what then will I call you? Do you have a preferred name? Something you were called my your friends, family?"

Arabelle gave him a nod as she thought of her friends, and the name dear Phoebe bestowed upon her. All the other names she could think of were vastly embarrassing for a pirate ship. Somehow she didn't quite think 'peanut' or 'princess' would fit in on such ship, let alone anywhere but her childhood home. With a small blush Arabelle abandoned her thoughts of the past and answered Madrid's question with one word.

"Belle."

"Sorry?"

"Belle. It's what my friend Phoebe called me in Cardiff for three years, and since then it stuck. It's not quite masculine I know but it is much shorter and I know to answer to it." Arabelle explained with growing childlike enthusiasm for Madrid's idea, and or, the hint that staying might not be such a bad thing after all. "There would be nothing worse than giving me a name I would not know. When something urgent came upon us I would not know what to answer to, and then what would happen?"

"You planning to stay long miss?" Madrid asked with a teasing smirk.

Arabelle shook her head at him. "I'm preparing myself Madrid, what is so horrible about that? You yourself said you did not know how long I was to stay. What if something happened while I was aboard? This is a pirate ship after all. Anything can happen."

Madrid's lips parted as he flashed her a grin. "Oh aye. Anything could happen... Belle."

Arabelle gave Madrid her own smile as the thought sunk in and her heart grew lighter at his understanding. She had hated for so long, now that she had met a pirate she wondered if her hate had been misplaced. Perhaps she had been wrong, then again perhaps she had not. Perhaps Madrid was only one of a kind. That was something she was determined to find out. Was their a soul, a heart, in each cutthroat rogue?

* * *

**NOW REVIEW!**

_....please_


	22. First Morning Aboard

:Sorry about the delay, but here is the next chapter. I'm plagued with allergies right now so I'm using the bed-ridden excuse to write- haha how many of us do that? Well, if you've got an excuse use it right?

Later

__

l'il pirate

* * *

Arabelle was awaken the next nmorning by a hand upon her shoulder, and for a fleeting moment she opened her eyes and found herself back in England, and for an even shorter moment she thought she was home. That moment sadly, however, came to an end when Arabelle looked up and found Madrid looking down at her with a regretful smile.

"Captain want's me to bring you."

Arabelle sat slowly with a moan and wiped the sleep from her eyes and any previous thoughts concerning her whereabouts.

"I'm tired. Can't he wait?" she grumbled.

Madrid blew out a breath and reached for Arabelle's hands with a smile.

"The captain doesn't wait for anyone." Madrid said as he pulled her to her feet. "Weren't you listening last night?"

"It would seem not. I don't think I slept as all. Did you?"

"As much as I usually do."

"How much is that?"

Madrid smiled as he lead her towards the stairs. "Not much."

Arabelle smiled, with exhausted enthusiasm, and followed Madrid meekly up the stairs.

As they made their way to the captain's quarters Arabelle kept her eyes down. She was still a little hesitant around the other pirates, and no matter what Madrid said about them it would depend on her alone to trust them. Arabelle glanced at a few sailors as she followed Madrid on deck, and besides watching her with curiosity they didn't do anything to scare her. Arabelle kept her eyes on Madrid and avoided looking at them nevertheless, now was not the time to loose her nerve.

Madrid stopped at the cabin door and knocked as Arabelle came up beside him. As Arabelle waited for the door to open she glanced around the deck. A few men still watched them but the majority went back to their work, showing clearly that their work was more important no matter what sauntered across the deck. A muffled voice brought Arabelle's eyes back to the cabin door as Madrid opened it, and leading her inside she forgot all about the crew, all about pirates and looked ahead through to the cabin with a mixture of anxiety and fear.

As Arabelle walked through the small room beyond the door she thought of her visit here last night. The room she passed through as well as the spacious cabin she came to looked quite different. Although it still struck her with the same degree of fear, as she stepped into the cabin and caught sight of the captain, it offered a dreamlike reality.

This morning the captain, as well, looked very different. He didn't sit behind his desk rigidly with disapproval, dressed exceptionally well for his station. This morning he stood behind the desk, looking out the window with his hat, coat and weapons nowhere in sight. Arabelle was surprised at this but scowled at her own stupidity. Just because he was a captain, as well as a pirate, it didn't mean he wasn't human. Of course he wouldn't always be armed.

Madrid stopped some feet from the desk and motioned for Arabelle to do the same. Arabelle stopped but kept her eyes on the captain, who hadn't moved since they entered.

"The woman as ordered Captain." Madrid said respectfully as he stepped aside, leaving Arabelle standing by the desk alone.

Captain Teague didn't move.

"Care to explain, now, why you are here?"

Arabelle's head snapped to the left at the sound of a new voice. And a man, the man whom had been in the cabin last night as well, stepped forward from the shadows with an unhappy frown.

"My ship was attacked, I was taken prisoner. You locked me in the brig. That's why I'm here." she replied smugly.

The man smiled mockingly. "She's got real spirit captain. But... she needs to watch her tongue."

Arabelle shifted uncomfortably under his cold frown as he stepped towards her.

"You're on a pirate ship now missy, you're not at one of your tea parties with the upper class. Here we punish those who speck out of turn, those who-"

"Marshal."

Marshal turned reluctantly. Teague, on the other hand, did not turn but as Arabelle too looked at him, he looked across his shoulder showing half of his weathered face, creased with authority, to those in his presence.

"Aye captain?" he asked hesitantly.

"I have a strong doubt that is the way you speck to a lady, _even _in the company of pirates." Teague said, his voice smooth and alluring but edged, as always, with a sharp hint of ruthless authority.

Marshal gave a shallow nod and stepped away.

Although he did what he was told, meekly, Arabelle could see he was not about to bring himself to apologize, and quite frankly she didn't think she would see any such emotions among her new associates. Arabelle was actually glad. That meant there would be no apologizing to those who didn't deserve it, such as she had been made to apologize to Mr. Bishop all those days ago.

"Boy, fetch Ben and bring him here. Marshal."

"Aye captain?"

"Wait outside. I want to speck with our visitor _alone_."

The two men nodded and left, both reluctant for their own reasons, while Arabelle grew tense at the thought of being left alone with the captain. She had no idea what he wanted but she felt herself acknowledge that it would be something she would not be pleased with.

Moments passed after the two men had left and Teague never spoke. Arabelle began to grow more and more anxious as the seconds passed until she shattered the silence suddenly.

"What's wrong? Are you going to let me go?"

"As I said before..." The captain said slowly, with a dash of annoyance, but remained unmoved before the window. "... I cannot just _let you go." _

"But... what about taking me home? Madrid said you-"

"And where is home?"

"Will you take me there?" Arabelle asked quickly, truly thinking she was to be free of these criminals very soon.

Teague glanced over his shoulder and caught a glance of Arabelle's expectant face. So like a naive commoner he thought. Trusting anyone when something they want is brought to the table.

"Perhaps." he replied simply.

Arabelle smiled in expectation and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing nerves. She was going home.

"Where is home?" he asked again with the same tone of simple elegance.

Arabelle's smile unexpectedly faltered. _Did she really want to go home? _With the sudden change of events Arabelle had completely forgotten about her plan, as well as the truth. She had no home to return to. Now being asked Arabelle didn't know what to say. Since she couldn't, and didn't want to, return to New Zealand _where would she go? _

"I... I don't know." she whispered

Teague turned, with a mocking look upon his face he questioned her.

"You don't know?" he frowned " You hit that hard you can't even remember?"

Arabelle's eyes glazed with angry tears at his mockery. She scowled as she met his eyes.

"I don't know, it doesn't mean I don't remember!" She cried through clenched teeth. " I know where my home _was_. And I know where my family _was_, but they're gone and my home along with them!"

Then suddenly Arabelle's anger softened. The lack of sadness in the captains face sent chills of understanding up her spine causing her to blink away her tears and calm her frail nerves. No matter how hard she cried or how much she whined she knew, in the blink of an eye, that she would not be viewed with pity. She was far away from England now and everything that she had been taught there was of value no longer.

"But I suppose you know all about that. You, as I, do not have a home. You have made this ship your home as-"

"Let's get this straight right now. You are _not _staying." Teague told her gruffly, throwing a finger in her face. "You will stay on board _just _until you find a place to go. Then you will leave and you will never see us again."

Arabelle frowned at his gruff outburst. "That's perfectly adequate with me. I wouldn't dream of-"

"And secondly." Teague interrupted again, this time with a scowl and black eyes he cut her off. "You and I are nothing alike."

Arabelle's eyes flashed at his assumption. She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes challengingly.

"Oh but I believe you are wrong captain. I believe that in some ways we must be alike, even if you-"

"Understand this." Teague snapped. "You are in no position to tell me anything. You are, whatever you decide to believe, at _our_ mercy. Now, since you need us I suggest you listen to me and remember what I have to say."

Arabelle frowned at his conceit but listened nonetheless.

"I don't let just anyone on my ship, your going to have to have to earn your ride luv. This isn't a pleasure cruise, your going to have to prove to me you deserve to be here. And until I feel I can trust you, you will be watched. I'm not as cruel as you may think." Teague said, watching her face fall his eyes narrowed. "...But I'm not stupid."

Arabelle's eyes glazed, once again with angry tears, as she regarded the captain's contempt and disapproval.

"What do you want?" She spat bitterly. "Do you want me to tell you that I'm a spy for the King, and assassin? _What_? I'm a young woman without family or money, that's the truth. I don't even have any idea of what I'm doing here! What threat am I to you?"

"It's not a question of a threat, it's a question of _trust_." Teague said seriously then gave Arabelle a hidden smile. "And don't worry luv, I can handle anything you throw at me."

Arabelle frowned, highly disapproving he was serious.

"And I canhandle you." he smirked down at her causing Arabelle to turn away, disgust in the ease he hinted at such an immodest suggestion written clearly on her face.

"When is Madrid coming back?" She asked suddenly.

Teague gave her another smirk and turned away from her.

"The boy will join us in a moment. You needn't worry for your safety."

"I'm not worried about my safety." Arabelle retorted.

Teague smirked "Your virtue?"

Arabelle sent Teague a cold scowl. "Not by you I'm not."

Teague turned to her quite suddenly at the tone of her voice, his eyes sparking with pleasurable defiance.

"You sound quite sure about that."

"I'm not _sure_." She replied curtly. "I'm positive."

Teague had to laugh to himself. She sure was spirited, in more ways than one. Any other woman would have gone to great lengths to secure his company, or completely ignore him, where as this woman seemed perfectly happy to attack him with insults and spite whenever she could. He respected that spirit and admired her for displaying it so, for it was vastly entertaining but he had a strong feeling she was not as strong as she let on.

"We'll just see about that." he smirked

Arabelle again regarded him with another well-deserved scowl and turned away, perfectly content to walk about the room until Madrid returned. For this gave her a much needed distraction and release from the vexing captain and his cocky replies. And so that's what she did. With Teague retiring to his desk and work therewith Arabelle resorted to walking about the room, examining it's contents undisturbed. And as Arabelle looked at everything, deciphering what each item said about it's owner, it grew comfortably quiet in the cabin until the point where Arabelle forgot she was not alone.

"Do you read?"

Arabelle jumped suddenly, nearly dropping the book she had been looking at, when Teague's voice, however gentle, had startled her.

"What?"

Teague dipped his quill in ink and didn't even cast her a quick glance before he set his quill to paper once again. "I said, _do you read_?"

"Yes I do." Arabelle replied bluntly and turned back to the shelves with the same amount of curtness he had regarded her.

"What do you read?"

Arabelle turned to him with coldness, snapped the book shut. "What does it matter to you?"

Teague looked up at her, and upon seeing her unhappy face he set down his quill and sat back comfortably.

"It doesn't, not in the least. I only ask because you've been holding that book awful tightly for the past several minutes."

Arabelle looked down at the book in question, tucked securely in her arms and felt herself smile softly.

"It is-"

"John Milton's_ Paradise Lost_. I know."

"You have read it?"

Teague smirked. "I own it, doesn't that make it clear?"

"You stole it is more likely." She retorted.

Teague smiled cooly but his eyes danced. "Actually no. That one I bought."

"And the others?" She asked raising an eyebrow.

"They came into my hands by other means."

"You mean you stole them."

"No. Not all."

"How many?"

Teague's smirk lightened.

"Nearly all of them." he replied honestly.

"Oh I see." Arabelle shook her head and turned back to perusing the shelves, again ignoring the captain and he her, but within a moment Arabelle was compelled to cast a glance over her should at him in wonder. _What kind of pirate stole books?_

A few moments later there was a knock at the door and, permitted to enter, Madrid walked briskly into the room with another man. The other man looked to be quite old as well as frail but his walk was one of a young man, kept up well with Madrid.

Madrid stopped suddenly before the desk, as Teague looked up, setting aside his quill, to greet the two men when Madrid looked at Teague severely.

"Where is Belle?"

Teague's face frowned in a look of question, for a brief moment before he smiled at the younger man's intense concern.

"What, you her mother?"

"I'm here." Arabelle interrupted, abandoning her book on the shelf and stepping forward.

Madrid's face softened in relief as he caught sight of Arabelle but looked directly back at Teague as soon as he saw she was unharmed. Arabelle also looked at Teague, sending him a frown but he ignored it and focused on Madrid's instead.

"What?" He growled with indifference and annoyance at Madrid's attentions.

Madrid glanced at Arabelle and Teague smirked tauntingly.

"I was a perfect gentleman, as always."

"_As always_?" The old man huffed, from where he stood opposite Teague. "You didn't even introduce me to your lady friend."

"More like prisoner." Arabelle scoffed, sending a fake smile Teague's way, which he ignored and grunted.

"I see that I have. Ben, may I present our very own Duchess." Teague said with a cool smile for Arabelle, who scowled hard in return. "Duchess, Ben."

"Duchess?" Ben asked, the poor old man missing Teague's pointed mockery. "Well, bless my soul I never thought I, nor any man I know, might meet such a-."

Arabelle sent Teague another scowl- where he stood behind the desk, watching her squirm, with pleasure- and gave the old man a frown.

"And sadly, I doubt any of us will." Arabelle replied as kindly as humanly possible with Teague smirking out of the corner of her eye.

Ben turned to Teague, his brow knotted in question, but the younger just shook his head.

"Aye, she's mad. Simply nonsensical. I know."

Arabelle turned her face away, trying to calm her nerves but abandoned any such idea quickly. She was in no place that required such pristine and mature manners. Here she could scream, yell and curse all she wanted. And deep down, no matter what she tried to convince herself, she knew she loved it.

"I'm not mad! I'm being held against my will for some ludicrous reason I have no idea or power over. And as for who I am, I am no Duchess or even a lady of high rank, I am a simple young woman of no consequence to anyone. I am Arabelle Sparrow and that is all."

The old man looked at Teague, sadness written across his face and deeply embedded in his eyes.

"Oh Captain." he said sadly as he shook his head slowly.

Teague mirrored his sad look.

"I know. The first woman on board and she's of no profit to us. We can't even hold her ransom."

"Captain!" Madrid protested finally.

Teague regarded Madrid with a tense authoritative look and turned back to Ben, all joking put aside he resumed his stern composure.

"Nevertheless she's had a rather rough start on board. I want you to have a look at her."

"Aye captain." Ben stepped towards Arabelle, causing her to jump back quickly.

Teague groaned. "Ben is the ship's medic luv. Probably the less harmless of us all-"

"Not true. I may been pretty harmless but I think me brother is even less harmless." Ben interrupted with a smile.

Teague smirked, at the truth of it, and continued. "You can trust him. He won't hurt you."

"Yes, but can I trust you?" Arabelle snapped.

Teague frowned darkly.

"On this you can." He replied, his voice low and stern but holding an undertone of alluring sincerity.

Arabelle glanced to Madrid at her side and found him seconding the motion. Arabelle lowered her eyes and turned to the old man.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Happen's all the time. You should have seen the captain the first time-"

"Ben."

The old man stopped, turning to his captain he found Teague frowning.

"This isn't about me, it's about her."

"Oh right." Ben turned back to Arabelle and winked.

"They should have a rule about that." Madrid laughed.

"What?" Ben demanded

"Doctor patient confidentiality."

Teague gave a nod and Ben turned back to Arabelle as he shook his head at such a notion.

"Now..." He said adjusting his glasses. "What can I do for you?"

"Um..." Arabelle looked to Teague, herself wondering the same thing what exactly Teague had in mind.

"Just look her over Ben." Teague ordered irritably. He knew he'd have to repeat his orders again, if not more. "The means in which she found herself on board were less than _accommodating_. Just make sure there's nothing serious we should know about. And check on her head... she seems to have one emotion- _irritating_."

Ben smirked and Arabelle scowled hatefully.

"You wouldn't like to see me irritating sir."

"You mean your not trying now?"

Arabelle grumbled, cursing under her breath, but Ben interrupted to Teague's pleasure.

"Come with me miss. I'll check you over."

Arabelle gave the old man a nod, which he grinned at then turned to Teague.

"Ehm."

Teague wetted his lips and rounded the desk, looking thoroughly displeased. As he rounded the desk he grabbed Madrid by the arm and pushed him towards the door.

"Just don't take too long." He grumbled to Ben then threw a finger at Arabelle. "And don't touch anything!"

Arabelle sneered, ignoring his command and decided that's exactly what she would do. She would look at everything while he was gone, and if she felt like it she would move things as well.

Although putting up a brief fight Madrid left the cabin reluctantly behind Teague without much prompting. However he didn't want to leave Arabelle alone for very long so instead of wondering off in search of Basile or a quiet spot in the rigging he followed Teague up to the sparr deck. Seeing that the sparr deck was beautifully uninhabited, soon after they retired there, Madrid set about brooding in silence and Teague after some grumbling set out to comfort him best he could.

"What is it?"Teague frowned at his young friend, his tone cold and unforgiving but the impulse had been of the softer kind.

"Captain you know I'd do anything for you. I owe you my life after you-"

"What do you want?"

"An answer. The woman, Belle, is she to stay?"

"Not for very long if we can help it." Teague replied hastily.

The woman had been on board not even a day and Teague was eager to get her off. He didn't like the way she acted, not the way she had blinded the crew so quickly. She was trouble, he knew that for a fact.

"Why?" Madrid questioned, his face giving his emotions away. He looked like a small boy denied an afternoon with his friends. As innocent, as a child, and ignorant of a decision.

"This is a pirate ship, not the King's barge. She's a lady not some salty wench we're used to. There are rules and codes of life she's been raised to follow. This ship for her is hell. She hates it here, and she doesn't belong."

"What if she didn't hate it? What if she wanted to stay, even if it was hell? The devil can be pretty alluring." Madrid added with a smile.

But Teague didn't like it. And he knew what Madrid was suggesting by his witty remark.

"Defiantly not. The devil can make his own choices, and those choices don't include her or any other wench." Teague growled, but Madrid didn't back down.

"Come on Teague." He begged. "I was talking to her last night and she's not as bad as you think. She's got a background in sailing and she's got enough spirit and wit that would make our lives-"

"Enough boy! She's not staying! She's just another washed up, poor, irritating-"

"Couldn't you be a little more civil to the girl?" Madrid snapped, his eyes dark and his face drawn.

Teague met his hard gaze and held it, challenging it with his own dark look. He didn't reply and this, causing Madrid to grasp for what little hope that afforded, pressed on for his approval or even his promise to relent... even slightly.

"She doesn't have any family, they've all died from what she told me. And all her acquaintances have been too long out of touch, she only has a few friends in England. Captain, she's all alone and scared. She needs a friend."

"She's got you-thus far you've been acting like a closer friend to her than most of the other crewmen."

"I'm just trying to help her Captain. Being brought onto a pirate ship against her will is a frightening thing, and for her more so. She doesn't have someone like-"

Teague, barely looking at him, cast a smug look in his direction. Madrid halted his tongue. He knew Teague's feelings on the subject and obeyed his wish. The past was something Teague did not readily talk about or acknowledge.

"Until she gets on her feet again, she'll need all the help she can get. And until then she won't be herself. You can see it I know you can. You were always the best at judging character. You can see her spirit bottled up within her soul. When she gets used to being here imagine what she'd be like!" Madrid grinned expectantly. "She's got what it takes Cap-"

"No." Teague scowled darkly and reached into the folds of his jacket. "Absolutely not."

"Why?"

Pulling out an ebony pipe, the length of his hand, from within the folds of his jacket, Teague tapped it in his open palm and frowned darkly at his young friend.

"She's been here for a few hours at best. We know nothing about her or what she can do. We can't trust her. She's not like us boy. She may have spirit aye but that's not enough to save her here."

"We could protect her."

"This isn't a merchant vessel. Those who are lucky enough to call the Bough home have to work and fight for it. There is no way that woman is weaseling her way onto my ship and into my crew when a score of men would die for such an opportunity. She doesn't belong here. She's not strong enough." Teague said strongly reaching into the folds of his jacket and pulling out a small package of grey mossy herbs and cuttings. Filling the pipe, and returning the small package to the folds of his jacket, as he spoke, he leaned against the railing as Madrid took this time to object once again.

"What if she was? If she could work and fight like the rest of us could she stay?"

"You take an eager interest in that woman, why?" Teague asked slowly, as he rolled the pipe through his hand thoughtfully and then returned it to the inside folds of his jacket.

"When I was talking to her last night in the brig she told me some things about herself... some things I knew we could help her settle if we tried. I could see it in her eyes. She has what it takes to be a pirate-"

"Enough." Teague growled threateningly, causing Madrid to halt immediately but reluctantly. "I want you to remember this. Out of mercy that woman is staying just until we find a place to dump her. I don't want to hear another word about her staying longer, about what a great addition to the crew she'd make or anything about how you or any other feels sorry about her unfortunate situation. When we drop her at some harbor I don't want to hear another world about her and I don't want to hear another word on the subject. Understand?"

"Yes captain." Madrid echoed as Teague turned away. Madrid turned his face away to the wide horizon trapping them.

"But I don't agree."

* * *

:Another day another fight. Any catch that little reference to Teague's life? That's all for now though, it's time for another round of allergy pills- later!


	23. Doctors Orders

:Still sick, still tired and still writing. Things are looking up.

Anyway, for this chapter we begin with the new character of Ben, the ships' doctor (whom I have based his appearance slightly on Brian Jaques), a kind old man who is a bit forgetful but sweet all the same, but don't worry I like the old guy but I get back to the amusing but heated exchanges between Arabelle and Teague. I've also indulged in a bit more of Teague's views on the world in this chapter but, as it should be, kept that to a minimum for further development and a more lengthy discovery of his true person. What fun is opening one present when you could have ten? My thinking exactly. So sit tight, you won't be disappointed.

Later

* * *

Ben, setting the candle back on the desk, faced Arabelle as he readjusted his sleeves to take their, permanent it would seem, place once again folded about his elbows.

"There Missy. I see naught wrong with you but a nasty bump on ye're head. It's nothin' to worry about. In a few days you'll be as good as new."

"I feel fine." Arabelle assured him for what seemed the tenth time during their short interview.

"Aye, and I don't see why you wouldn't. But it'll take a few days to cure that bump- that's all." Ben replied with a kind smile and a short pat upon her slender hand.

"Thank you Mr. ..."

"Ben's fine. Mr. Walters is me father."

Arabelle bit her lip and held her smile within. The man before her could not have a father, at least not anymore, he had the appearance of a man well into his seventies- something not seem in any mariner society- yet still retained the jovial wit that belonged to the men, around him, who were young enough to be his grandchildren. And yet he didn't resent his age, nor his looks, he confided quite readily that they proved to be an advantage in most avenues one would not dream of. Human tendency, Arabelle inquired, but Ben corrected her- human pride... youthful vanity.

"I see that smile Missy." Ben grinned and Arabelle couldn't help but offer him the smile she had withheld, she felt at ease, comfortable with this old man and his droll wit.

"You think it's a might strange I reject the name?"

"I don't see why you wouldn't take it." Arabelle confessed.

"Here there ain't much use for such professed names... 'sides the captain's. He's the only one with a proper title, and he's the only one who deserves it in truth."

"I hardly think-" Arabelle protested, allowing a frown quickly replace her smile- she did not relish the idea of hearing about the captain, not since he was responsible for her continued presence here.

Ben didn't interrupt her with words but the look that crossed his face made Arabelle regret she had spoken. Lowering her eyes she looked at her feet bashfully for but a moment before she hid them under her skirts. She felt like a child, a uncomfortable thought for a person such as she-holding on to her geyser like anger and spite as if it was a lifeline amid a turbulent storm, but under the wise eye of the old self-proclaimed doctor she couldn't help but feel young and foolish. It was a natural feeling when in such a position, she had no right to question his wisdom, nor his opinion.

"How is it that so quickly you've set your mind and heart against the captain when, from what I've heard, he's done nothing but kindness to you?" Ben asked, his voice gentle and his eyes questioning of the darkest blue.

Arabelle bit the inside of her cheek reluctant to reply. She did not have a plausible answer nor did she wish to give one, she had no words to offer but an excuse of past wrongs and she felt offer that would be playing in haste. She wished to forget her troubled and painful past, and she wished to rid herself of any future dealing with the crazed criminals who claimed her family. To do that she would need to proceed cautiously and pray she would be shown mercy. She was unsure of how to give an answer to this kind old man that would do both those things but proved to be at a loss. Regretting the offer of a reply Arabelle met his, her own growing deep and unsure. The old man on the other hand narrowed his as a smile appeared once again upon his kind lips.

"You remind me of my granddaughter. Always quick to judge, and silent on cause. Darling girl, hardheaded but darling." ben chuckled softly to himself as he pulled himself to his feet, apparently pondering on some memory, but he patted Arabelle's hand affectionately as if she had been the granddaughter in question.

"And this is where I leave you now." he said, groaning softly as he straightened his stiff bones and looked down upon her with nothing but kindness. "I will send for the captain as I leave. He and the young pup will return presently I suspect, so I suggest you find a comfortable place to sit, I don't doubt the captain will have questions he wants answered."

Arabelle lowered her eyes and murmured a soft reply.

"A word of advice Missy." Ben offered kindly, lifting her chin with his finger, gently, to look at him. "Answer his questions. Wasting his time will only make things worse."

Arabelle sighed reluctantly but offered the accommodating smile of a meek child. "I understand. Thank you."

Ben sighed, his own tired reply and left her side, moving to the other side of the cabin and the door beyond with a pace much slower than the one he entered upon. Arabelle watched him go but expectantly clasped her hands tightly within her lap as he stopped and faced her just before disappearing into the ominous black shadows surrounding the doorway.

"The captain's not so bad once you get to know him."

Arabelle didn't react, nor did she believe she was suppose to because Ben simply turned and left once he had reassured her. She only turned away and waited for the soft click as the door shut. Although this old man was clearly was sincere Arabelle doubted she could ever think of this man, this captain, with as much admiration and civility as these men serving under him did. She didn't see how it was possible to trust a murderer, no matter how his actions had effected her- for bad or _good_.

* * *

Ben's words had been true. Not long after he had left did Teague and Madrid return, however by that time Arabelle found no pleasure in talking, nor in the thought of questions. From where she know stood beyond the desk, Arabelle watched keenly as both men entered, rather hoping to catch a glimpse of the man Ben had been so fond of, and thus realize the need for changing her mind about him.

The door opened and the captain returned, with Madrid close at his heels, all the while Arabelle remained both unmoved and unaffected by the presence of both men. Ignoring Madrid, who always seemed to bring comfort and smiles wherever he went, Arabelle kept her eyes fixed upon the mysterious man before him. In her mind she forced herself to study him, described him-to strive to see what was so extraordinary about him as everyone claimed.

He was a tall man of relative average height, his hair was dark and dotted with jeweled objects she didn't doubt were bona fide. His entire attire must have cost a great amount, for he was dressed- besides their worn fraying appearance- very well indeed. She had to confess- both in appearance and dress- he was handsome, but his morals were horribly flawed, his humor rather crude at best, his temper terribly short and his eyes completely void of compassion or warmth. And that was what she remained focused on, as any wronged party might. Arabelle didn't like him, even after hearing good reports, and she was not about to change her mind.

The captain stopped before the desk and sliding his hat effortlessly from his brow, tossed it onto the table with ease as his eyes met her studying gaze.

"So?"

"What?"

Snapping out of her trance of examination- at the sound of his deep inquiry- Arabelle gave him an accusing frown and, expecting another agitated fit, hugged herself. Surprisingly, though, the fit did not come, he only sat down matching her frown and made himself comfortable.

"I expect, since Ben did not remain, that there is in fact nothing wrong with you."

"Not physically, at least not in a medical sense." Arabelle replied with ease.

The captain cracked a wry smile and motioned to Madrid to bring a chair.

"Not physically?" he inquired with amused interest.

"I _am _being held against my will by a crew of pirates. If you have forgotten." She replied thanking Madrid for the chair silently and sitting in it gingerly, looking back up just in time to watch the captain blink a sparkling mask from his eyes.

"Minor technicality luv."

"And I repeat. My name is Arabelle, not _luv_, and I request you use my Christian name whenever I am in your presence."

Teague ignored her request and retained his smirk.

"Would you by any chance be feeling bold enough to enlighten us on the way in which you happened to find yourself aboard my ship luv?" he asked tipping his chair back, enough to lift his legs and positioning them atop the desktop, in the most comfortable way he saw fit.

Arabelle, watching him for a moment, wondering if he was laughing at her or sincere, missed the small endearment he had attached to the question and defensively leaned forward.

"I regret to inform you Captain that in that respect I shall always prove to be unhelpful."

"You refuse?"

"I do."

Teague's lip quivered into a snarl. "Why?"

"Because I would assume that your crew would know more about my capture and concealment than I. I suggest you inquire after two men, since you in fact just _killed _the third." Arabelle retorted shortly. "I believe someone by the name of Jennings and a talkative little man, who's name I cannot re-"

"Gillias." Teague growled.

Arabelle, hiding her surprise at the captain's quick ability to identify this men after such a vague description, nodded in the affirmative. "Yes, how did you-"

"Bring them." Teague barked.

Arabelle, half forgetting she was not the only one in the cabin with the captain, sat forward.

"Aye sir."

Arabelle turned abruptly and watched Madrid exit the room, his hand absentmindedly resting on the butt of his pistol, stuck in his sash, as he had entered moments before. She had forgotten about Madrid.

Turning back to the captain, she questioned him silently, hoping to understand what may happen next-namely if there was to be any more murders-, but Teague did not even look at her. Instead he, after removing his feet from his desk, stood and walked across the room to his cabinet. Arabelle, watching him extract another bottle, rolled her eyes and leaned forward. Running her hand across her face, with annoyance, and then pushing back the unruly locks escaping her braid she stood.

"As long as you are intent on keeping me prisoner may I request what, pray tell, you expect me to do all day? I can't simply sit in my _accommodating _cabin all day."

Teague, scoffing at her mocking tone, shut the cabinet door and casually walked across the room in direction of the desk.

"I'm sure I can think of some service you can provide the crew." He replied, his voice low and suggestive.

Arabelle scowled, with her eyes cold and full of disgust she thrust her hands on her hips.

"I would rather be thrown overboard weighted with a cannon than oblige you with any such service _Captain_."

Teague frowned at her apparent love for twisting words, throwing them at him with spite, and for her high-and-mighty elegance.

"I regret to inform you that there is something you should know about my ship luv. If you are to benefit from my generosity, and stay on board, there is something you should remember. I am the captain here and such tones of mockery and disrespect do not bode well. I suggest you never cross me luv. However if that proves to much for your spirited independence, and you do in fact 'rub me the wrong way'-"

"The consequences with be dire. Do you not think I have had enough _proof _of that fact already?" Arabelle retorted. "I've watched a man die by your hand, a man who was under your care. That hardly gives me any reason to trust you!"

Teague, irritably irked now, slammed the bottle down on the desk and faced Arabelle- likewise painfully annoyed.

"Listen here sweetheart." He growled, glaring at her intensely. "You have no authority to question my actions or orders. You should be thankful I came and did what I had."

"You didn't have to kill him, surely!" she cried, frowning bitterly. "There are other ways-!"

Teague scowled and stepped forward, situating himself confidently a close step away from her upturned face and glaring eyes.

"I protected you. You didn't seem like you enjoyed his 'company' nor his attention. Even if I was mistaken, which I most certainly was not, I do not regret the shot I drove through his chest. I acted in the best interests of myself, whether that also proved to be in your best interests, as well, you shouldn't question me but prove grateful. Whether I spared a life or took one it shouldn't matter to you."

"Shouldn't..." Arabelle breathed- shocked by his callous.

"No. There is a saying, half a loaf is better than none. Do you know what that means?"

Arabelle scowled, refusing to reply to his pointed reprimand.

"It means, it's better to receive less than you want than nothing at all. Gratitude will carry you further than selfish pride."

"And you know this how? From what I have seen so far you have not showed one bit of gratitude to anyone."

Teague's chiseled cheekbones rose slightly as his jaw clenched, darkening, his gaze grew alarmingly dangerous.

"Only gratitude goes to those earn it. I offer my gratitude to those to whom I trust, which aren't many, but I show respect to those who deserve it... and these are even smaller in number."

Arabelle scoffed, highly offended by such an arrogant statement.

"And you treat your men in such a manner? Do you likewise demand the same action and way of thinking from them? If that is so I am surprised they even look at you." she scowled, looking him up and down as if their positions were reversed. "They, you can be assured, are twice the man you ever were."

Teague sneered but slowly cracked a dangerous but charming smirk. So alluring that Arabelle, in any other situation, would have second guessed the man, however, besides the sudden dangerous charm, Arabelle was caught of guard by this sudden change.

"You have no idea what a man is."

"I know what they are." She defended haughtily, forgetting the prior distraction and expressing her thoughts with spiteful anger. "But you are not one."

Teague growled

"And you know this how? You've seen nothing of the world nor it's people. The men you claim to be men are nothing but cowards hiding behind throngs of guards, decorated with jewels and worthless ornaments. They'd rather betray their brother than lose a property- a moment of glory. They..." He shook his head once and leered at her. " ...are not men."

Arabelle's stormy face softened. Her eyes remained dark but her scowl grew weak. Her breath slowed and for the first time she looked at the captain deeply. He was angry but he was passionate, determined, and he was willful. Arabelle actually wondered if she had been mistaken in her regard for him.

"You say that with such passion, such spite. I would assume you have an intimate reason to express yourself so strongly." She concluded, her voice much gentler than her prior demeanor. " A personal-"

"I say what is true." Teague retorted strongly. "I do not divulge in lies and deceit. That is their area of expertise."

"You weren't one of them once?" Arabelle asked, quite surprised. She had rather expected him to confess such but quickly abandoned the idea when Teague laughed coldly at her naivety.

"I'd rather shoot myself."

Arabelle frowned, she wasn't joking, she was serious and yet this man had the nerve to laugh at her, mocking her questions and good intentions.

"And yet you work for them?" she inquired, growing tired of his amused but contemptible view of her. "You buy and trade for them, to better one country, one supplier, over the other?"

Teague smiled, this time more childishly than before. His eyes snapping with brilliance and dark attraction. Arabelle was forced to swallow slowly and watch him intently, captivated by the mystery beyond his dangerous eyes, his ability to, so quickly, capture attention was both enthralling and frustrating. It took keen regard to discover his true emotions and thoughts from the false. For someone who despised deceit, he was truly a master performer.

"Well, we don't buy per se." He grinned, conveying a dangerous adventurous spirit to his personage- which caused Arabelle to smile, lightly, even though she didn't agree with his motives. "Some goods we happen upon are a result of those happy enough to _donate_, and some we just know have more than they need."

"So you steal it all? I can't say that I am surprised."

"'_Steal_' is such a harsh word." Teague smirked, his fingers dancing over the edge of the desk with ease as his eyes fixed intently upon Arabelle's. "Those people would have donated those goods readily enough if they were compassionate. I consider it a tax on the greedy."

"Oh and do these good acts also merit commendation for assisting the unfortunate or availing the evils of the powerful and wealthy?"

Teague narrowed his eyes, and grunted softly, avoiding the question.

"By stealing from the wealthy to give to the poor you save them a great deal of pain and suffering. But by taking from the wealthy to in turn reward the wealthy, it not only puts pain on those previous master's workers but the men, women and children under the harsh grip of other masters."

Teague furrowed his brow, frowning, but still not uttering a sound. Arabelle was urged on by this look to divulge in her opinion further.

"You may not see the pain you are causing but in truth you would do better to leave things as they were. The poor would appreciate any means anyone would offer aid but the wealthy would only lord over the goods, greedily keeping it for themselves while continuing to oppress their people. I must ask you again captain, for I feel you may actually posses a sense of justice by your status, not to mention the graciousness you have offered me- even if I do not fulling understand it, nor reciprocate my thanks in the appropriate manner. Do you in fact give to the poor, or do you give to those who have no use for such generosity."

"Generosity?" Teague frowned darkly, facing her with nothing but cold interest. Arabelle simply waited, fearing any acknowledgment-even a nod- would set the man off again.

"No." Teague bluntly spat with ridicule for the question as clear as glass. "I do not. Not to either do I give so freely as you have indulged in such stories of either party so passionately."

"Do you even care?" Arabelle asked weakly, her eyes burning with anger but her voice low and hurt, feeling far too weak with emotion to raise her voice at him or curse.

She was anxious as to his thoughts, they quite exhausted her- his constant churning and changing emotions, his unbridled spite and frustration, his reluctance at speech but his elegance and wisdom when allowing his words to flow freely. He was truly, not what she had expected in pirate.

"I care for my own men and that is my duty. I carry it out well and don't concern myself with such injustices of the world when I have little interest or power in the matter. God helps those who help themselves luv, these people you so concerned with clearly don't bother to do anything but beg and scrape when they could be finding a way to provide for their families..."

"But-"

"If they will not work for a living as the rest of us are required, they deserve the hardships they are faced with."

"They cannot keep up, they cannot support themselves with such a system! They have hardships heaped upon them and are refused any aid!"

"Think what you want. I don't care."

"I can see that." Arabelle retorted.

Teague scowled, turning back for his desk again. He didn't like this girl, her moods changed like the wind. One minute she was kind and obliging and the next she was facing you with scowls and frowns- objecting to everything and talking back without respect. Sitting himself down in his chair unhappily, he could see her approach without even looking at her, her scowl holding fast as she stopped at the other side. Leaning her hands on the desk's far edge, she leaned forward.

"Look, I'm not telling you how to live your life." she said kindly, but with an underlaying tone of strong reluctance. "I just wanted to make sure you knew how your actions effect others."

Teague leaned his arms on the desk and leaned forward as well, his head held high and his eyes blank but dark as always.

"I appreciate your concern darling, I really do." he frowned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But I don't _care _what you think."

Arabelle pulled back quickly, frowning darkly she cocked her head to the side and inwardly cursed the man before her. She had tried to apologize and yet he...

"Do you care about anything?"

Teague snapped, grinding his teeth he slammed his hand against the desk top, causing Arabelle to jump.

"I've had enough of you questioning me sweetheart! If you don't like it here leave. Now! I'll give you a long boat, if that's what you want, just shut up!" he yelled, rising quickly and throwing an accusing finger at her with hatred.

Arabelle, suddenly- her power returning with a furry, threw a finger back at the captain and resisted the urge to curse him to his face.

"No, I don't want a long boat. I don't want anything of yours you bloody rum soaked pirate!" She cried, equally strong. "And stop calling me that! I'm not your darling, _sweetheart _or luv!"

"Aug!" Teague turned, his hand quickly finding it's way to his pistol tucked under the fold of his jacket.

How dearly he wished to just get this over with. One shot and it would be over, beautiful glorious silence. His hand cramped as it rested upon the butt of the weapon, he frowned darkly as he thought about it. Cursing under his breath Teague lowered his hand. It would also be an unnecessary mess. And not to mention and unnecessary death of a handsome, slightly amusing young woman. Teague growled low in his chest as he cursed, he never thought he would see the day when beauty and wit would save a life.

"Stupid wench." he mumbled.

"What did you say?"

Teague spun around, his face twisted with anger at her strong demand.

"I said stupid wench!" He exclaimed roughly. "Bloody stupid wench!"

There was a knock at the door, suddenly, interrupting the second of _peace _before the storm continued. Arabelle jumped at the knock, half expecting the captain to pull a pistol from his coat and shoot something, but somehow he resisted- only yelling ferociously at the visitor.

"Who the hell is it!"

A tense moment of silence followed, clearly the man behind the door was hesitant to answer. She didn't blame him. Arabelle opened her mouth but Teague reeled on her with lighting speed. Throwing a hand towards her he just pointed, scowling, and Arabelle clamped her mouth shut instantly. Turning, at the sound of the door creaking open hesitantly, Arabelle watched the shadows at the door anxiously for a reason to retreat.

"It's Madrid, Captain. I've got Gillias and Jennings. You want me to have them wait?"

"No!" Teague barked. "I _want _to shoot someone."

Teague looked at Arabelle pointedly, who frowned and lowered her eyes then hugged herself against his cold frown and hinting tone.

"Bring them in." Teague ordered.

"Aye captain." Madrid said quickly then disappeared once again.

"Go into that room and wait there." Teague said turning back to Arabelle, nodding to a closed door on the other side of the cabin. Belle opened her mouth to protest but Teague quickly silenced her.

"That's not a request. It's an order."

Arabelle, bitting the inside of her cheek defiantly, stamped off towards the door, opened it and halted. She turned to Teague.

"Make yourself comfortable." He said bluntly, without even looking at her, his tone cold but full of derision.

Arabelle looked back to the room and entered with a frown, each movement silent.

"And shut the bloody door!"

A second later the door slammed nosily. Teague looked up, cursing under his breath as he looked at the door.

"Wench."


	24. False First Impressions

:Long delay, I know. Exams have just begun, work, friends, age football and family have been detaining all of my attention lately. Here is the next chapter-long overdue but I hope that the length and content makes up for that.

Transformers II is coming very soon. Is anyone else excited? Me, I love the characters mainly but the last movie's plot was great and am looking forward to the next. It's not Pirates but Lebeouf ain't bad. other than that, since I won't be seeing Public Enemies I'm sure Johnny looks pretty money in those 30s duds and look forward to the next pirates. Any tips on what's going to go down in the 4th?

Later

* * *

Arabelle stood peevishly just beyond the threshold looking at the small room surrounding her with annoyance. It was a simple room, much simpler than the large one beyond the door, decorated with exotic ornaments and trinkets, maps and books. In the room there was only a small cot- well made-, an old simply made wooden chair, a trunk and a lantern hanging from the low rafter by the opposite wall. Arabelle glanced over the room, floor to ceiling and found no possessions like those expensive items in the larger cabin. Only the two books were piled by the chair, a shirt hanging over the back, one map-old and frayed- pinned onto the wall above the trunk and a coat hung on the wall next to the chair gave evidence that a person lived here.

Arabelle stepped forward and as she looked around, turning a tight circle, she was reminded of her cabin aboard the Mary Eliza. It had been very similar to hers, truthfully this was simpler than her cabin there, and this a captain's cabin! Arabelle lifted her hand to her mouth, and barely touching her lips she examined the room with interest. It surprised her that such a man would lead such a simple life, let alone such an organized and tidy life. Never before had Arabelle seen a man's quarters... well actually she had never seen anything of a man but his appearance on the street or a public place but they had all stricken her as sloppy individuals- yet this captain, this arrogant, easily angered man was so tidy and simple. Arabelle had to confess she was surprised.

Strolling slowly into the room she paused and regarded the map, old, soiled and clearly very much out of date but attractive all the same. It certainly had value in the captain's eyes if it was the only thing on the wall of his cabin. Next she looked across the room, her eyes resting only a minute or two on the old coat hanging on one of the hooks fastened to the wall. Arabelle had never seen the captain in this coat, nor did she believe he wore it anymore- it was terribly frayed. Reaching out gingerly Arabelle felt the fabric between her fingers- it was thin, worn well and possessed a slight musty smell-, clearly it had not been worn in some time, but it looked to have acquired a permanent home in the empty cabin.

Next Arabelle's eyes flickered to her right, where the chair stood and a shirt hanging over it. As if the shirt had been a naked torso in itself Arabelle's eyes refused to rest upon it, and quickly glanced down to the books laying beside, which she regarded with interest.

Rearranging her skirts, Arabelle squatted beside the chair and gingerly picked up the books, absentmindedly incurring a lesson pressed by her parents- not to disturb another's property unless asked- by taking a mental picture of how they lay before she reached out. Arabelle didn't think of her parents just then, nor the lesson they had taught, but she acted precisely as they had taught and with delicacy she touched the worn covers with reverence before disturbing it from it's place.

The first book she turned over in her hands was a simple book, a novel, the other however Arabelle was surprised to find here on the floor of a pirate's cabin. It was a plain unmarked book, but when Arabelle flipped it open she found a selection of beautifully sculpted writing lining the pages. She thought nothing of it until she kept flipping. The writing changed to small diagrams, sketches of a variety things such as countryside's, ships, birds and animals. Then just as she began to admire these drawings the contents changed again, now to small clusters of words and then music notes. They were songs. Arabelle's lips gently played at a smile as she held the book open in her palms. Her eyes danced over the pages and rested upon the first line atop a small cluster of words, leading into a page of lyrics. _Red Sky_. Arabelle's eyes followed the small beautiful print below, the song began...

"_I know what lies beneath, I've seen the flash of teeth.  
Conspiring with the reef to sink our ship.__  
The wind's a cheating wife, her tongue a thirsty knife.  
And she could take your life with one good kiss."_

_"Can you see the sky turn red? As morning's light breaks over me,  
Know tonight we'll make our bed  
at the bottom of the sea."_

Arabelle's eyes darting forward with interest, for she had never heard this song before nor knew of it's origins was rather excited to read a real sea shanty- a song from the sea, was oblivious to the sheets starting to curl. As she read those last words the sheet fell over the words, and quickly moving to turn the page back Arabelle's hand halted over the creamery page, her breathe drying upon her lips. The page was blank. Quickly turning to the next she found the same thing. Anxious now, Arabelle flipped through the rest of the book to find only blank pages. Suddenly, without forewarning as yelling broke out beyond the door Arabelle dropped the book as if it were a hot ember. She turned, glancing over her shoulder fearfully, and waiting, she strained her ears- listening to the noise die down in the other room.

For good measure, Arabelle waited another few minutes before she glanced to the book laying face down on the floor- open, it's creamy pages kissing the planks with delicacy. Hesitantly Arabelle stole a nervous glance over her shoulder before, anxiously rubbing her fingertips, she picked up the book with care and turned it over in her hand. Her eyes, crossed the paper to find not lyrics written but words, and a date. Arabelle fingered the etched black letters and hesitantly read.

_March 17__th__ 1699_

_Made port, Providence Ills. Forced to stay in berth, winter squall. Letter from Emily reached us today against incredible odds. News from England. Baby born, male, on the 5__th__ of February. Emily well, child cries, there is a fear of illness lingering. London, Gracechurch Street, can find her there. _

_April 10__th__ 1699_

_Reached Guadeloupe, fair winds, voyage went relatively well for season. Rain begins to fall as I write. Made port three hours ago. Crew in good form and spirit. Glad to be back. Captain Lee informed the crew on a new voyage come spring. Sierra Leone. _

Hesitantly Arabelle flipped a few pages, distracted by the mention of a woman and baby and the so called Captain Lee. She hoped to find more evidence on them but stopped six pages later, her eyes dropping heavy onto the words halfway down the page, in messy scrawled lettering.

_January 29__th__ 1702_

_Battle off the coast, Fort James. Ship heavily damaged, 25 wounded. 8 dead. Captain Lee among the dead. Shyris fell along side him. The crew is without captain or quartermaster. The ship was rode into a low tide, must wait until high tide to maneuver through rocks. Made for shore in the long boats. Wrapped and weighted bodies. Tomorrow we mourn the dead. Tomorrow we chose new captain._

_March 5__th__ 1702_

_Weeks before his death Captain Lee told me the story of a Lord, a Pirate Lord ruling the seas of Madagascar- he expressed a wish to find him, an old friend. Upon the last wish of our captain we head for Madagascar on high tide. The Indigo Princess too heavily damaged to continue, acquired new ship for voyage- the Ash Bough. Rough but well made, fast galleon but lacks charm of the Princess. Both ship and crew are eager to set sail. The new crew eager and willing and my quartermaster young and eager. Marshal was aboard the Princess along side the few of us who are left, but reluctant to have a captain his minor-watch him closely. Looking through the captains possessions found the map to Sydasik Wyren's island and a letter. Dated 1682. This voyage is planned with haste. I fear the Lord may not remain in this world. _

_May 26__th__ 1702_

_Sydasik lives. He's old and not able to sail. His crew has all retired along side him, most already dead. He clings to life but proved vigil when I arrived. He was pained to hear of Captain Lee, who was an ally of his but he repeatedly said they would sail in the new world together. Sydasik is a very animated man, despite his frail health. The natives of the island here revere him like a chief or king. Surprising for the life of a pirate but not unwanted. Spent little time with natives but can see clearly why Sydasik resides here. It is paradise amid a storm._

_May 28__th__ 1702_

_Sydasik passed onto the next world. Leaving an empty estate, three ships in dry dock, and no relations behind. He requested his possessions be given to the new Lord of Madagascar, and prior to his death, Sydasik charged me with the responsibility of carrying this title. Pirate Lord of Madagascar. Giving me a small box hardly larger than a snuff box - he told me to take them and wear the title with pride and strength. Then he asked me to find a successor for Captain Lee. Lee hadn't been a Lord but Sydasik grieved the thought of the Caribbean being barren- forgotten. I vowed to find a successor but the captain told me the man I would not chose- he would chose himself. I merely would guard the title until that man arrived. That man will be-_

"Bring her here!"

Arabelle snapped the book shut. Nervously, she quickly placed the books back on the floor as best she could, making it seem like they had not been touched, and quickly sat on the chair as the door opened. Arabelle looked up quickly, grasping her trembling fingers in her lap tightly as she looked up, innocently, at Madrid standing in the doorway looking quite drawn.

"Captain want's you." He said gently, there was still Teague's animated, spiteful demands rushing through the air behind him, but he didn't seem to hear them. Arabelle stood, holding herself perfectly erect and nodded without the smallest hint of any displeasure or anxiety.

"Is something the matter?" She asked slowly walking forward to the doorway, flinching as she heard Teague snap again, this time, cursing loudly without restraint.

Madrid wetted his lips and frowned irritably.

"Lets just say he's having some trouble being obliged with the proper information. Both are quite keen on delays."

Arabelle took a deep breath, and gnawing on her bottom lip, glanced beyond Madrid to the captain scowling across the desk at the two men. In her eyes, looking far different than he had first appeared. Nonetheless she pushed those thoughts and the ringing words from the book from her mind and stepped over the threshold.

"I'll try my best to help."

Madrid nodded, grateful for such words, and stepped aside, ready to close the door behind her.

Arabelle had expected Madrid to say something when they entered the other chamber, or even give her an encouraging nod once she approached the tension ridden space between the captain and the two crewmen, but he remained silent- forcing Arabelle to make her own way. Slowly she raised her eyes and cast them quickly over the faces of the two men who had been responsible for bringing her into this dangerous and frightening position, but in haste she dropped them again and looked to the captain instead.

Teague was standing, solemn but with malice, on the other side of the desk clearly reading and willing to resort to bodily harm rather than another moment of this interrogation method. His hands were barely resting on the table before him and he showed little reaction when Arabelle re-entered but she could see the subtle change in his relatively calm stance.

"Yes captain?" she pressed, softly as not to stir his anger intentionally.

"These men claim they have not acted against you but rather were forced, under severe threats, to aid in pilfering certain articles upon your person. I require you to either defend their actions or condemn them."

Arabelle glanced at the two men once again. The smaller was clearly cowering, nervous and fidgety but the larger was stone faced- nervous as well but he hid it better than the previous. Quickly pondering what the captain had just said she was about to protest, holding fast to the excuse that she did not remember, but one look from Madrid closed off that option completely.

"I do not recall them at all having a desire for any articles I possessed, but I can attest to the fact that they were cajoled into it by another. And for that you have already made that man pay the price for his actions."

"You defend them?"

"I do not condone what they have done but I feel they acted out of desperation, if not fear." Arabelle looked to the smaller man and remembered the last moment she saw him and the fear she had seen in his face.

Clearly they had both been scared and even if she did not remember any details of what happened n those last few moments she knew she could not condemn him for being afraid, either of her or the third man... the dead man.

"But they were influenced and that is a good enough reason."

"To condemn them?" Arabelle frowned, careful not to raise her voice but her sentiment was clear. Teague frowned and leaned over the desk towards her.

"Influence of whatever kind can be dangerous and when it is taken up against the captain, either in small ways or large. It is a serious offence."

"Please, please captain, Gillias and Jenn-"

"Silence!"

The small man shrunk down in the chair and trembled-clearly he was very influential. And if not clearer than that he was very fearful of a great many things, but as she watched him cower Arabelle couldn't help but wonder how, in heavens name, had he ever gotten a position on this ship. And how ever did he last this long?

"You wish to punish them?" She inquired diplomatically.

"You would dare suggest another alternative?"

"I would not seek to undermine your authority Captain." Arabelle replied in a hushed voice, those words she had read from the journal rushing back to her- those words about strength, loss, and duty- she did not want to agree but she felt she had to at this moment. It was his decision despite what she said.

"But I would urge you to reconsider a heavy punishment for I believe that a just punishment and a chance at redemption is far more valuable than a swift and cruel end to any man."

"Are you suggesting that I grant these men... _mercy_?"

"Not mercy in the definition you may be thinking but-"

"Have you any idea of what that would lead to?" He interrupted, speaking bluntly still spurred on by anger. "All it takes is one gentle punishment, gentler than another and all hell breaks loose. The crew will not be played and they will rise up as any crew does. I prize myself on a loyal crew- I deal with them fairly but I am not looking to misuse their trust darling, not even to satisfy you."

Arabelle did not relish the sentiment he had spoken those last few words in, and although she had fought with herself to be civil she could not help but react quickly.

"Ease your conscience Captain for nothing you do shall ever please me, nor would I wish you to try. Throw the men in the brig for justice if you wish to punish them. It'll be far better for you to detain your crew than idly throwing them at the wind in hopes she will carry your problems away." She snapped. "These men are your problem, deal with them."

Teague, his attention now taken up by her rather than the men saddled with a charge of consciously disobeying the captain and acting contrary to the law, faced the willful stowaway with crude interest but resigned not to address the problem. He would much rather carry these verbal sparring matches with her in private rather than before the likes of his crew. So, turning to Madrid, he threw the ring of keys aggressively at the young man and scowled.

"Have Marshal deal with this lot and get back to your post, I've had enough of you."

"What about-"

"I'll deal with _that_." Teague said turning to Arabelle to scowl heartlessly.

Arabelle, frowning at him, tried to hold her own but he was fear inspiring- and not in the comforting sense- and she failed sadly. She wished Madrid would stay but when she heard him offer his solemn, quiet, acknowledgment and call the two men out of the cabin behind him Arabelle's blood chilled. She wished to believe this was betrayal but it was impossible, she was simply left alone with the captain once again, and he was not pleased.

Teague, to be sure not one word could be caught by those hungrily hanging outside the door- casting interested glances this way and that- waited until he heard the quiet snap of the door latch before he turned to Arabelle, She was still new on board and Teague knew it would take some time before everyone ceased to care much about her-once the rules were laid down blunt and strict- but already he was concerned about the normality of the goings on onboard with this spiteful disruption that had come in female form. Nevertheless, Teague was not surprised that he needed to, again, reprimand her- for it seemed a normal facet of her character- but he was quickly growing tired of it and his temper, if not attention, was wearing thin.

Teague, ready to once again retort harshly for some reason such as her incredible skill at vexing him, opened his mouth but was cut short when she blew a breath through her nose with reluctance.

"Alright. Don't even begin, I'm sorry."

Caught of-guard, not by her relent but rather the actual apology, his eyes hastily dropped their gruff regard and his scowl drained from his lips. He still did not look approachable but at least the unstinting anger in his eyes was draining.

"What was that luv?"

Arabelle signed and lowered herself into one of the chairs the men had been sitting in moments before. Hanging her head slightly she took a moment, pushing her reluctance down with a great deal of struggling, then looked up- not able to bring herself to look him in the eye she resigned to look intently at a dark bead hanging just beside his right cheek.

"I said I'm sorry." She replied strongly, independence clearly present in her tone but otherwise submissive to her conscience.

Teague couldn't help but scoff, not mockingly but rather incredulously, and it not only surprised Arabelle but he himself. On impulse he wanted to question her further but reluctantly relented and fell into a moment of silence- half watching her as she continued to brood in the accompanying silence. However Teague felt compelled to ask as to the nature of her sudden turn in the previous conversation so he did, without much thought on wording or tact. This, however, was something Arabelle was quickly becoming accustom to.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I said I was sorry."

"That don't anser my question."

"Well it should suffice. If I told you I would rather not indulge in the conversation-"

"I'd ask you again to 'indulge me'."

"I believe 'order me' is more like it."

"You want me to order you luv, cause I will."

Arabelle sighed without restraint and shook her head, surprisingly feeling much more mellow than she had in his presence.

"No. I'd rather you didn't if you don't mind. I am still a captive on your ship, I hardly think I am ready or willing to be ordered about unless completely necessary."

"Completely necessary?"

"Yes."

"Now when would you be accustom to taking orders when 'completely necessary'?"

"When we are in mortal danger as in a battle or something of that sort. When it involves my safety, I will take orders, not under any other circumstances."

"That right?"

"Aye. That's right."

Teague smirked. For a second she actually was pleasing to hear. That impulse to speck as she did so briefly must have been deep seeded because she did not seem to notice just how much of a mariner she sounded. She had been calm and quick in her speech which pleased Teague- giving him the soft whispering idea that she was not as refined a lady as he had been lead to believe. But that would not be enough to change his mind as to her quick removal from the crew. She was still a woman, a frustrating and out of place woman, and Teague would have nothing of the sort on board his ship.

"Well then I don't see the harm of getting used to taking orders before the time comes, because I should assure you we will at some time or another meet with mortal danger and if I can't be looking out for you all the time. Your life will be your problem, and you'll have to save your own skin if you like breathing as much as you do talking."

"Don't worry yourself about me captain, I am quite capable to look after 'my own skin'. I have had training with a sword."

"You ever fight someone?"

"I have had many duels with my brothers and my masters, and progressed quite-"

"I'm not talking about childish games luv I'm talking about a fight, a battle with another person. Have you ever fought to save your life?"

"Well I..."

"That's what you'll need to know here. And you won't be up against any nancy-boy who decides he has a liking to you, at least not all the time, you'll be up against soldiers, navy officers and at best another crew of pirates."

"But I thought there was an agreement between all pirates, all were considered bound by the same rules, the same laws and you were not to-"

"Aye, we be bound by the laws written down by the founders of the Brethren Court. And these laws have been changed and adapted throughout each court but no man carries the rules word by word when there is something of profit or desirable nature before them, be it a hold of swag, a chance at greater power or the taste of a woman's flesh." Teague looked pointedly at Arabelle, causing her to blush fiercely at his lack of propriety.

"... 'cept a small handful."

He smirked at seeing such a change in her after such a comment- although her spirit was wild her manners and upbringing pulled her down to the state in which Teague considered childlike, devoid of the facts of life and reality of the world. Far too many people crossed themselves upon hearing another curse or so called indecent talk or humor, far too many grew awkward and flushed at the comment of intimacy of two people, far too many people where afraid of acknowledging life and certain pleasurable aspects of it. It was natural and far too many people shied away from it.

"Each captain governs his men according to his own rules, no two crews are of perfect likeness. Some even forsake the basic laws set before all pirates, choosing to follow only what they wish and forsaking the rest. No, these men believe rules are made to be broken, they will not be hindered by going against their own blood... and that is why one must always be prepared."

Arabelle watched him in fascination, never had she heard such a truthful depiction of the once romanticized and degraded men and women she had heard so much about from books, books that painted them as cold hearted killers or romantic rogues with troubled pasts and only possessing the flaw of vice or true love. She had heard only a vague description of their rules from her novels but after hearing Teague explain it so quickly she had a strong inclination that all she had read thus far on pirates, was completely and utterly false.

"What is the Brethren Court?"

"Not something I wish to be talking about to the likes of you."

"Why not?"

"Do you readily answer everyone's question about you or what you stand for just because someone asked out of 'polite' aristocrat curiosity for the lower class?"

"I do not-"

"Save it luv. Stick to your books and your distorted views of piracy and leave me alone to live my life in peace."

"I did not mean to offend, I had only hoped to understand whom the people are that surround me here on this vessel amidst the sea... perhaps so I may cease to offend you so."

"I don't find offence with women, I find annoyance and frustration with them and anything you do will never cease to annoy me."

Arabelle frowned and, leaning back in her chair, she met Teague's eyes coldly.

"If you refuse to enlighten me than I fear I will have to look elsewhere for my information. I am quite sure a great many of your crew will be willing to offer their services." Arabelle stood, haughtily, and narrowed her eyes at him before she turned- high handed and made her way away from the desk.

"No you wont." Teague interrupted her escape gruffly as he stood.

Arabelle slowed, then turned, casting a testy frown over her shoulder like a spoilt child with their scheming interrupted. "I believe I will captain."

"No you will not. My crew are under strict orders to keep at a distance from you lest I cut out their tongues and I will not have you soiling my efforts and their obedience."

Arabelle spun around.

"You are concerned for my safety then!"

"I'd rather chew broken glass." he scoffed heartlessly. "I am concerned with my crew obeying my orders nothing else."

"Than why did you kill that man below yesterday? He-"

"He knowingly disobeyed my orders and disobeyed the code. He was-"

"I thought you said that many did not-"

"_I_ obey the code sweetheart." Teague growled. "And all that step foot aboard my ship or join my crew do as well. As I said when you arrived- you don't like it feel free to grace us with the removal of your scrawny carcass from my ship at your soonest convenience."

"Do you think it is that easy? No. You stripped my of my last and only provisions, belongings and money- I will not relent to your-"

"Hey! I didn't strip you of anything."

"Your men did, and that I am afraid is your fault. You are the captain, you should have kept a closer eye on your men. You couldn't think this would never-"

"I don't hover over my men like some spinster over a piece of gossip and my men respect me for that. If they step out of line I carry out my station requirements and punish them- make the others learn by the mistakes rather than their own. If they cross me, if they disobey me, they do not live to make the same mistake twice."

"That's cruel." Arabelle cringed

"That, luv, is life. I do not run a charitable vessel, they expect me to be hard and in return I am fair."

"I hardly consider that being-"

"You have only just arrived luv." Teague said, his eyes sparkling. "And I would never except a woman to understand such things."

With that he turned away and Arabelle's anger flared up against him. How dare he say such things to her. She was as smart, as cunning and strong as any man. And from that moment on she decided she would prove him wrong, even if it killed her. She would prove she was no tender vulnerable English lily, she would prove she could fit in, work and surprise any who were daring enough to misjudge the power and strength of her sex.

"That is true, a woman may not understand the simple workings of a man's mind but we, you can be assured Captain, have a tendency to surprise those against us in the larger things."

Arabelle stared intently at Teague then turned and made for the door.

"Were are you going?"

"Anywhere but here!"

"Sorry to disappoint you but you won't be going far. You're on a bloody ship!"

Arabelle squirmed, he was right but that didn't stop her, she cursed at him under her breath and made for the door nonetheless. At this moment she didn't even fear his anger as moved away, it was a fantastic feeling, even with him yelling after her, but she didn't care was wanted to show him she wasn't like the others. Arabelle Sparrow never took orders from anyone and she made that clear, happily, by slamming the door soundly behind her.

Sadly that fearlessness and that pride did not last long at all, for Arabelle, briefly after leaving Teague's cabin regretted she had. Although she was sure both Madrid and the Captain promised the crew would not harm her, she wasn't entirely sure they would let an opportunity pass them by, especially if it was to enjoy their newly acquired female company. Her blood chilled as her eyes skipped across the deck, and then crew therewith, eyeing her like a piece of meat.

Madrid, Arabelle could see, was no where in sight and her pride refused to allow her to turn and run to the safety of the Captain's cabin, so fearfully she took a step forward.

Between her hesitant delicate steps Arabelle became acutely aware of not only her surroundings, her apparel but her body and it's movements. In Cardiff she had teaching of body language, the proper way to walk, the correct way to swing your hips and hold you head high to attract attention-she had this teaching drilled into her until by habit she walked like a perfect lady drawing the attention of every man... as she should. But suddenly, on purpose, she rejected the teaching out of sheer desperation.

She must have looked like a dunce by the way she suddenly, as she felt all the eyes upon her, sagged her posture, bent her shoulders forward and straightened her spine as much as she could muster without crying out. Self consciously she cursed under her breath, feeling like someone had strapped a metal rod to her back and forced her to walk on hot coils- ridiculous yes but not as bad as could have been possible. The men snickered but she bit her lip and did not react, instead she was searching desperately for a place to hide but before finding one her stiff dead-like saunter was interrupted.

"Who shoved the rod up your arse?"

Arabelle turned on her heel to lash out, as nature intended, but the sight of Teague so comfortably leaning against the door frame of his cabin, his arms crossed causally across his chest and his eyes black and stern-although cold-brought her unsurmountable comfort and immediately abandoned any wish to yell at him for such a comment. She swallowed her pristine society training and smirked.

"If there was one, I'd take it out and use it to protect myself."

A few men laughed but Teague only smiled lightly.

"Are you sure I am safe?"

"From what?" He asked bluntly

"You know, the regular mariner actions and conduct."

Teague frowned but nodded in the affirmative.

"That's comforting, but would it be any trouble to ask that your crew look at me other than they would a piece of meat?"

"Clearly the men find you appealing."

"Well I am flattered but-"

"Don't be. They feel that way about every woman, no matter what they look like."

"I understand." she nodded, rather hesitantly, deciding to disregard his pointed meaning. "No matter the interest then, could you speak to them?"

"And what would I say luv?"

"Something about regarding me with a little more respect, less interest and a great deal less attention."

Teague bit back a smile and, surprisingly quite captivated by her attractiveness and humor when she wasn't mad and annoying, relented.

"The men won't hurt you, but as for regarding you a some exotic animal-that will just have to wear off."

Arabelle hesitated, she was thankful but still wary and Teague could feel that. Although he never felt for anyone showing fear, in this situation he felt it best, in his interests, to oblige her.

"I can assure you of this though luv, me crew will behave as well as they can with respects to you. You have my word." Teague, knowing his crew's character, like any free man, did not leave it at that, after calling those present to give ear he addressed them formally.

"Those of you who haven't met our new addition to the crew, this one is to be treated with the utmost respect, you can muster. That means no touching... Mutt. No lude remarks when present and at all possible keep it in your trousers! Any of you who disobey my order or seem to _forget _it for a time will be punished- the most generous of which will be a stout lashing and a weeks rations substituted for hardtack and water during a week in the brig. Am I understood?"

The loud return of affirmative answers that resulted was truly astounding for Arabelle's fear had nearly immediately diminished. That of which remained died with the smile Teague gave her, which however alarmingly out of place, seemed to warm her apprehension and still any fear she may have had. Teague's smile was not the kind of shining toothy grins Arabelle had been accustom of seeing but rather a smile that came from within the eyes. You couldn't tell he was smiling until you looked closely but when you caught them sparkle it was much more meaningful than any other you had seen. Arabelle squinted, watching him for a moment and the illustriousness beaming through those large black orbs, it was alluring but in the same time shocking for her to place with the captain. She would have far sooner accept that a blacksmith or a baker to have such a simple form of such alluring beauty than a criminal to possess in such a sought after quality, but somehow for some unknown reason she found that-her thinking- hard to accept.

"There, that's as close as you're going to get to a priest out here darling."

"Thank you Captain, I... a _priest_?"

"Aye, you might be surprised but you'll come to see we're not much different from those gentlemen of yours in high society, the only ones that seem to be above our similar morals are priests and clergy."

"The same as..." Arabelle exhaled a laugh, defiantly not believing these men were anything like the men she knew back in Cardiff, but then Arabelle remembered Mr. Bishop and his friend Caye, she believed this pirate completely.

"All that separates us is a different hat and jacket."

Arabelle couldn't help but laugh at his wit. "That and your choice of business."

Teague's eyes sparked as he smirked. "Too right luv."

* * *

: _Red Sky_ is another song courtesy of _Thrice_ I have used. The lyrics are true and I thank _Thrice_ for such a perfect song for those who love Piracy lore. Doesn't that song remind you of Jack? _A flash of teeth... she could take your life with one good kiss_...? Sounds a lot like Jack and his experiences don't you think?

Enjoy? Drop a line.

Until then, later.


	25. Motley Crew

:Not much to say today, just bummed my ride fell through and I missed Amos The Transparent in concert.

* * *

Arabelle spent the next few days solely in the company of Madrid, whom looked after her needs entirely and kept her out of reach and view of the crew. When he met with them periodically to collect their food, or take his watch amid the rigging, he joked about his secret project, but no one-regardless of who they were-saw hide nor hair of the handsome little project for nearly a week on end. It wasn't until the first full week had passed, however, of Arabelle's stay aboard the Ash Bough that she emerged from the belly of the ship a step behind her protector, with much more confidence than many expected.

"Right..." Madrid quickly scanned the deck, leading Arabelle to the starboard railing and, with ease, jumped onto it. "With Raul manning the helm it's clear we're not heading anywhere fast, which is perfect for your first lesson."

"I thought the sparring was my first lesson." Arabelle inquired, shielding her eyes from the sun as she stopped, looking up at him. "And by the way I must protest. That attack was not fair, you had promised-"

Madrid chuckled, facing her and brushed it off with a smile-a smile that enabled him to get away with just about everything.

"Nay, that was just to have the captain off your back about not being able to handle a blade. With those few lessons out of the way we can begin the real work undisturbed and come back to the fighting later. Today is your first actual lesson. You're not strong enough for deck work and you can't shoot worth of shite, you're steady and have small hands... and I don't doubt with that body you'd be pretty agile..."

Arabelle frowned, blushing slightly.

"You're not afraid of heights are you?"

"...No, why?"

"Perfect."

"Madrid, what are you getting at?"

Madrid smirked and hosted himself up the ratlines, which he climbed until he came to the mainsail, and fearlessly climbed off the large hemp ropes and stepped soundly onto the sails top rib.

"Madrid are you daft! Get down from there!"

Madrid, laughing at her concern, walked the length of the pole and teased her.

"Idiot. You're going to fall!"

A man- dusty blond hair, dark eyes and about a days growth lining his chin- came to Arabelle's side and looked up at Madrid in his element. With his hands in his pockets, a pipe hanging from his mouth and a small lopsided hat atop his head, he was the picture of ease and laziness but his eyes were kind and not in the least threatening.

Arabelle turned to him, simply a reaction caused by her concern, Madrid was unnecessarily soliciting, for his safety never even left room for the reality that she was surrounded by men whom the world dubbed as criminals and outlaws to cross her mind.

"Can't you do something? Get him down, he's going to fall!"

"Don't worry miss, the lad's done far crazier things in my day and he's na're fallen yet."

Arabelle nibbled her bottom lip anxiously and hugged her hands to her chest nervously and nearly shrieked as Madrid used a rope hanging from above to support his weight and allow him to lean over the deck some fifteen feet below. With only his toes gripping the pole he smiled down at Arabelle cheekily, his eyes dancing at her frantic concern.

"Your first lesson."

"You're mad!"

"That may be so but you're going to learn from the best!" He laughed and swung all of his weight off of the pole and onto the rope which swayed as he climbed down, one arms length at a time.

"What's he talking about?" Arabelle asked under her breath, the man next to her, who was still listening and waiting, took the pipe from his mouth and scratched his chin.

"He's going to teach you the duties of a lookout most likely. Not all fun and games as it seems, I've found you've got to be a certain kind of person to do it. It's rare to find one who does it well but he's right. He is the best... even Basile can't climb like that."

"Who's Basile?"

The man smiled and after blowing out his pipe, and returning his pipe to his pocket, he tossed his head to Madrid, motioning to be patient for the moment as he had returned. Arabelle followed his eyes and faced the brazen young man, as he looped the rope around a ring set into the main mast and, returned to their company.

"You've got to be mad if you expect me to do that." Arabelle laughed before he even reached them, but Madrid didn't deny it- he'd have her up there and that was that.

"Nay. It doesn't matter if you will or can do something like that I just wanted to make a point. We'll start your training tomorrow... in the rigging."

"You don't have to teach me anything before I go up?"

"Like what?"

"How not to fall." The sailor laughed, entering the conversation clearly displaying his relaxed wit.

Arabelle raised an eyebrow and looked between the two men. "That would be an asset."

Madrid chuckled but shook his head. "If you want to fall you fall, if you don't you simply don't. It's as easy as that."

"Sure." Arabelle shook her head, not entirely convinced but respectful of his experience.

Madrid smirked but let the comment slid, instead he turned to the relaxed sailor with them. "I see you've met Grant-charming fellow that he is."

The sailor bowed his head with a modest flourish of gentlemanly charm.

Arabelle smiled at this. "I don't believe we know each other yet though."

"That's if he wishes to befriend you." Madrid said wryly with the entire expression of weaving yet another story. "He may have the appearance of nothing but politeness but he's actually the worst black-hearted villain."

"Aren't we all?" He laughed, good-natured about such an accusation but he gave Arabelle a kindly smile as he looked her up and down then turned back to the young pirate. "I'm never one to pass up the friendship of a handsome young lass, and nothing you say will change me mind on the matter."

Arabelle grinned at the two of them, so unlike people she had known all her life but refreshingly so. She felt pleasantly content. The man Madrid called Grant offered Arabelle his hand, which she took rather clumsily, and shook firmly.

"The name's Robert Grant."

Arabelle smiled. "Ar... Belle."

"But you can call him Rob, or Grant, we all do." Madrid intercepted quickly as he looked around at the crewmen buzzing past, bustling about their work to no immediate cause.

Robert smiled, ignoring Madrid's lack of attention, and gave a nod. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you."

Arabelle smiled in return, genuinely, for she couldn't hold a smile within with the two men facing her with nothing but jovial ease. They were so different and yet they didn't seem to care who she was. She was aboard, in and amongst the crew now and that's all that mattered. Arabelle watched the two men, presently in conversation about the condition of the sails and tack, and as she watched them she noticed just how much she had been in ignorance. Were these men the only ones or was the entire crew in actuality not to be feared?

"Belle?"

"Yes?"

"Grant says there are some lads down in the galley, just off of their watch... would you like to meet a few more of the crew?"

Arabelle swallowed and quickly grasped the folds of her dress-attempting to calm her sudden upheaval of nerves but rather succeeding in fanning them into anxiety before she even realized it.

"Do you think that wise so soon?"

"You're going to have to at some point. Besides, if you start to become one of the crew-"

"But I don't want to b part of the crew! I want to go home."

"Well, until you decide where that is the captain won't be satisfied to keep you on board until he's sure he can trust you. Getting to know he crew and working along side them with make things smoother for you."

Arabelle hesitated a moment, he did speak truthfully but she was unsure, Madrid didn't seem to notice however for he continued without hesitation.

"Grant, you know who's down there?"

"The young lads were trying to coax Ben into a game of dice but I think they'll end up bribing Hardy for an extra ration of rum 'for too long."

"Then we best get down there before we miss the entertainment." Madrid winked at Belle and pulled her along. "This is one thing you'll pick up quickly."

"What?" Arabelle demanded as she was pulled down the stairs behind Madrid.

"Everything happens in the galley!"

Grant watched as the two youths trampled down the stairs then turned back to his work, with a smile on his face.

* * *

_Moments Later_

Arabelle heard the noise before they arrived and other than shouting of triumph, of protest and threats Arabelle grew nervous. Arabelle hadn't been to the galley before but she knew they had arrived when the voices grew louder and Madrid turned into a doorway much like the others-this door however opening to a large room dotted with large tables and benches. Arabelle was able to take a quick glance about the room, before her eyes fell upon a motley group by the far corner of the room. They sat in a circle, most where hunched over an upturned keg playing some sort of game while the others were engaged in a lively conversation above them. One young man however, Arabelle noticed immediately, was leaning back in his chair looking about the room listlessly. That was, until he noticed them at the door.

"Sweet Mary mother of... it's her!" he yelled with enough enthusiasm to knock himself backwards on his chair.

Sprawled at the feet of his companions no one noticed the young lad on the floor, but rather all turned to the doorway where their fellow crewmen stood with a kind of creature they had not seen up close in months. One man-young but very roguish for so young a person- stood and, bottle in hand, swaggered towards them. Upon closer contact Arabelle could see the man's eyes narrow. But as his lips cracked into a grin, she could see it was a look not meriting anxiety. He tipped the bottle in hand towards Madrid, which Arabelle, from her experience, read as a salute, and spoke.

"Nice work wings. So you've finally brought your little prodigy to meet the lad."

"It's about time." Another voice shouted.

Madrid smiled and, comfortingly, put his hand out and cupped Arabelle's elbow.

"This is Watson. Don't worry about him he's all talk."

Arabelle smiled, he seemed kind enough. "Nice to meet you Watson, I'm Belle."

"You sure are."

Arabelle looked towards the group of young men in surprise but smiled when she caught the smile of yet another yong man- this one, like Watson, close to her own age and looking to be full of the same youthful charm but a bit scruffy. Madrid, smiling still, lead Arabelle towards the others.

"That is Phillips, a cheeky British boy and a real smooth talker."

"But you can call me swain." Phillips said cocking his head to the side confidently.

"Is that another term for swine?" Arabelle smirked and after a few surprised scoffs felt alarmingly calm as the men burst into laughter at their friends' expense. Phillips on the other hand looked to have thick skin because at once, seeing the young woman's relaxed smile, shrugged it off and added his own smile to the group.

"You've got to watch her she a fast one." Madrid cautioned the group seriously, but was enjoying this as much as the rest.

"Oh don't worry we're watching her."

Arabelle turned to the man across the group, with soft green eyes and a small serious smile. Arabelle exhaled a laugh- as much as she hated the society's gentlemen and their attentions and comments she was actually enjoying this exchange- they were frank but refreshingly so. Their thoughts were clearly expressed without worry, just as she liked it.

"This is Avery. The ship's Bo'sun." Madrid offered lightheartedly as Arabelle nodded.

"Nice to meet you."

Avery nodded in reply and the introductions continued.

"Beside Avery is Hunter and next to him, the young lad hidden under the mop of brown hair, is Dominic. These are our only surviving landsmen."

"Surviving?" Arabelle asked with masked anxiety.

"Aye, Captain... _excused _the rest." Hunter offered with a regretful tone.

"With a whole lot of cursing and-"

"Shut up." Phillips cuffed the young blond lad across the back of the head and then ignored him as he grumbled about the excess of violence.

"Those previous landsmen were not fit for sea life. As a matter of fact not many are but these two sure do make it hard for anyone else, brave enough to try." Madrid offered in explanation but once again continued with the introductions. "But before he complains about being left out and to stop his grumbling, that mouthy blond lad is Jamie, the one whom so enthusiastically alerted our arrival."

"Couldn't help it." He grinned enthusiastically, forgetting all about his reprimand a few moments earlier.

"No I don't suppose you could." Madrid replied smartly but turned to find someone sitting in the corner, slumped in a chair, half hidden by the shadows. Madrid grinned and left Arabelle's side in direct route.

"And this, so comfortable hiding in the shadows, is Sam, the last of the crews 'children'... as Ben affectionately calls us."

Arabelle, expecting some kind of scarred or deformed individual to step into the light, she was shocked when the man whom stepped forward was nearly perfect in every way. He was naturally handsome with sharp chiseled features and short hair- he had the appearance of old nobility from the way he carried himself and steadily looked you in the eye- someone you would not think to find in the bottom of a pirate ship however much at home he seemed.

"Madrid has finally let you out of the hold has he?"

Arabelle nodded and faced the handsome man without any fear.

"I thought it was best to hide her away for a few days. Have you seen Teague lately?" Madrid offered before Arabelle had even opened her mouth.

"I haven't seen him since yesterday." Jamie spoke up, true to his nature not caring if the question was directed at him. "And when I did he didn't look none to happy."

"Have you been down to the brig yet?" Phillips asked the group, a few nodded but the others offered a selection of shrugs or questioning looks.

"Aye, he's locked Jennings and Gillias in there good and tight. They've been in there near a week now and they're looking worse than when Watson was locked in there after he-"

"Oi! That wasn't because of-" Watson interrupted but Hunter interjected and continued where he was cut off.

"... after he staggered on board after the week we spent docked at-"

"Arm and arm with three strumpets?" Phillips laughed. "Claiming that the Bough was his ship. That was-"

"I did not-"

"I'll never forget the look on his face when the Captain met him on deck." Jamie laughed slapping his knee.

Madrid smiled and quickly gave Arabelle an explanation as the lads continued to bicker amongst themselves.

"Some time ago we were docked at Fort Dauphin for some repairs. The captain gave us leave for a week and a few of the men enjoyed their time more than others." Madrid smirked and tossed his head towards Watson. "He came to the ship late one night with a herd of women, which he had allegedly promised to treat with some enjoyment on his ship. What he didn't count on though was the Captain to be waiting for him. Even before Watson stepped onboard the captain, apparently, cleared him of his duties, chased the strumpets from the ship, had dear 'ol Watson here hauled down to the brig and locked in away for weeks. Ever since then Watson has been determined to give us the real explanation." Madrid rolled his eyes causing Arabelle to smile and glance Watson's way-where he was threatening Phillips. "But every time the story's different and the Captain's never reinstated him his full duties."

"I was the bloody carpenter's mate!" Watson protested, hearing Madrid retelling the story once more in length.

"And now Maitland's taken over-"

"I've been doing that since I was-"

"You did break the captain's trust." Arabelle shrugged addressing Watson in mid-rant and causing him and the others to silence immediately.

Unable to contain himself for long Phillips scoffed and slowly each young man cracked a smile.

"You know if I didn't know better I'd think-" Madrid smirked, shocked at her interruption.

"Hey wings is she and the captain-"

"The captain and her?" Jamie sputtered, chocking on his tongue, coughing profusely before he cursed about no one coming to his aid as he '_almost died_'.

"Aye and what would we say at the funeral? He died nobly... choking on his own tongue?" Watson laughed mockingly. "Not very interesting if you ask me."

"And who else's tongue would I have chocked on?" Jamie asked under his breath.

Phillips leaned in close and narrowed his eyes. "You remember Gwen?"

Jamie's eyed widened and tightly held back a smile. "Never mind."

"Interesting?" Arabelle inquired above the clearly disreputable conversation going on between Phillips and Jamie. She was struck by the wish of an interesting death but quite pleased to be off the previous subject and quite keen to avoid listening to such a conversation sorely lacking the kind of morals she had grown accustom to- especially being so inexperienced in this world surrounding her now.

"Aye." Hunter offered when the rest began to mull about in their apparent usual fashion, sparring verbally with each other without remorse or reluctance, engaging in conversation over conversation. "When things are quite we've found ways to amuse ourselves without getting onto the captain's bad side, and the most recent of which is discussing our choice of an interesting death."

"Death?" Arabelle frowned, cringing despite her firm wish not to.

"Aye, we've all chosen our desired way to die." Jamie smirked, young and impressionable he was but fearful it seemed and greatly without etiquette of conversation.

Who in their right mind spoke of dying with such ease and enjoyment? Arabelle felt she had surly dropped off the map with this lot. She looked at Madrid who, despite offering a teasing shrug, joined the group around the old upturned keg and left her to join on her own.

"You have all chosen the way in which you wish to die?" she asked incredulously.

"Aye. It's a fact that seamen don't live too long, much less pirates so we've all shared how we wish to go to pass the time." Dominic replied, speaking quietly and with much more reserve than the rest.

"Why on earth would you wish to chose your cause of death?" Arabelle exclaimed, moving slowly towards the group of wayward youths, with interest-hidden-but prevalent.

"Passes the time." Madrid shrugged. "'Sides it's a great way to loose your fear."

"Of death?"

"Aye darlin'." Avery replied. "Take me for instance, I want do die in battle, taking another pirate ship. I want to die amongst those I regard as my brothers, against a formidable opponent. I've been in such fights for years but there is always some fear attached to it. When I look at it like that, and the honor it would bring I'm 'nare afraid of dying for my captain."

"That's very... heroic?" Arabelle murmured, standing a few feet from the group knitting her brow-trying ardently to understand the appeal of planning your own death.

"You haven't heard anything yet. Wait till you hear Phillips' wish." Jamie laughed aloud, proving to be the most outgoing and unconcerned of the entire group. Phillips cuffed Jamie once again but he smirked and crossed his arms over his chest-facing her with a clear look of contentment and confidence.

"In the arms of a beautiful girl."

Arabelle hid a smirk and, despite herself, rolled her eyes. "What a romantic."

Phillips smirked and shook his head, sending this collection of his brown shaggy locks dancing. "It's better than Hunter and his choice to die-"

"At least mine is believable like Avery's!" Hunter snapped, with jovial mockery-sending the lads chuckling-but he smirked and rested his hand on the table reciting his wish without the smallest hint of fear or anxiety.

"I'd like to be lost in a storm, washed overboard and simply disappear."

"Drown?" Arabelle shuddered.

The entire company became relatively silent, a few murmured and the odd one scoffed-making Arabelle even more anxious but Madrid shook his head solemnly.

"Pirates and seamen don't drown."

That was all he said but Arabelle understood more than she wished to. She had once read that in an English journal, when there had been talk of ruffians looting the transport ships, that men of that sort deserved to be hung without a trial and nothing more. Clearly Madrid was hinting to the same fate. She, however wishing to question it, she was fearful to bring up the subject. They were talking about death but not in that sense.

"I'd like to die in a Kraken attack." Jamie offered offhand, changing the subject with ease.

Everyone looked at him, with a mixture of scoffing snorts and unconvinced glances he just shrugged. "I've never seen one."

"You want to get eaten alive, crushed by a hundred razor sharp teeth as the ship you are on is dragged below the waves by a bloodthirsty, monstrous sea creature?" Dominic asked pointedly, as if in attempts to scare him off the idea but the other just shrugged.

"Sure, it's exciting."

"Well, no one will argue against originality." Watson grinned, saluting the group with the bottle he still had then downed a swig.

Hunter scoffed at Watson, whom always seemed to have a bottle in his hand, and sent the comrade a smirk.

"We all know Watson's 'dream death' is." he laughed.

All the others laughed, nodding in reply, leaving Arabelle quite out-of-the-loop but Watson caught her puzzled expression and kindly waved the bottle at her and winked.

"Death by drink!" he shouted merrily.

Arabelle, wishing ardently to frown, couldn't help but offer a smile in reply to the men's merriment. Although the topic was unpleasant their enthusiasm was inspiring and, surprisingly, contagious. Arabelle enjoyed the company, although the topic was distasteful she forced herself to enjoy it as best she could. She was scared but each moment she felt the urge to bolt like a skittish cat Madrid caught her eye, and each time his smile calmed her, allowing her to enjoy the sparse contact with others.

"What about you Dominic?" Madrid asked, once the chuckling had died down and Watson finally relented to prolong his death at least for a few more minutes, and set the bottle on the table between them all. "I don't think you've ever shared."

Dominic, with the appearance of reluctance, shrugged in silence, refusing to answer.

Watson, who was sitting the closest to Arabelle, turned and gave her a little nudge. "Dominic's a little shy. You see he's the youngest and quietest of us all. He's not seen anything to scare him out of it, nor shared the company of a woman who'd oblige to mentor him out of his awkwardness."

"I'm not awkward!" Dominic retorted.

Watson shrugged and retrieving the bottle from the table once again he tossed Arabelle a smirk. "See."

"On the contrary I think he's better for it."

Watson, chocking on his liquor, grimaced as he turned and regarded the proper English woman with a dissatisfied and betrayed frown. She, on the other hand, held her back straight and met his gaze as the others looked on in surprise. Surprise to see this newly arrived lady standing up to Watson, the mouthiest, rowdiest one of the bunch (besides the amorous Phillips that is).

"What?"

Arabelle nervously, at being questioned so harshly, glanced around the group, catching slight of Dominic's widening eyes, Jamie's interest, Hunter and Avery's disbelief, Phillips' shocked but charismatic smirk, Madrid's proud smile and Sam watching without much expression-felt a calm wash over her suddenly. She folded her hands over each other and pressed the tightly into her lap as she once again met Watson's eyes.

"I believe you are wrong about him. Although shyness and a quiet disposition can be a flaw it certainly can be a protection as well."

"How's that?"

Arabelle nodded in his direction. "Now I will not pretend to know any of you more than the other but you yourself said he is not experienced in port and it's wares. And his actions and discretion are of more benefit to him and yours are of you."

"Colorful words luv." Watson frowned, unhappily at being challenged so.

"You have not heard how _colorful _my conversation can be." She warned solemnly, sending the men into enthusiastic snorts and laughter as to her bold reference.

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"Nor should I need to, you have already answered it yourself. By Dominic's quiet nature he has protected himself against the consequence of actions like yours in the line of drink and wenching. His death, if he so chooses to share with us, I am confident, will not be of the degraded sort you have decided upon."

With that, as if not able to take anymore Madrid slapped the crate before them all and looked at Arabelle, who had jumped in surprise at his gesture, with a large grin. Looking around quickly, Arabelle was surprised to see all the other men smiling-was this a common practice when someone put down a friend of their's? She did not know but she felt relieved as she dropped her spite and blunt words as Madrid spoke for the entire group.

"Huzzah Belle! That's what we want to see! It's been too long since someone's put Watson in his place."

Avery laughed as he punched Watson jovially in the shoulder. "Never thought you'd get outsmarted by a girl did you mate? Ha ha!"

Arabelle smiled and graciously gave Watson the fullness of it. "No offense meant."

Watson shrugged and waved her off, a smile creeping onto his face to reaffirm his reply. "No worries luv."

Arabelle spent the rest of the hour in the jovially company of the ship's youth and, despite her small disagreement with Watson, got on very well with the lads who, surprisingly, warmed up to her presence quite quickly. The lads grew accustom to her interactions during that short period of time and were pleasantly surprised on a number of occasions when she quickly joined their conversations despite the topics. However, when she was not conversing with the entire group she resorted to diverting a single member of the young ramble, inducing them into a more private conversation on a wide variety of topics-mainly however duties aboard the Ash Bough.

Madrid had mentioned to her earlier that week the importance of pulling her weight if she aspired to remain on board until they docked at a safe port before she was tossed overboard and she had no doubt it would help to improve her relationship with the headstrong captain, thus she took it upon herself to find ways to make herself useful without reeking havoc-which she quite hoped would not happen. She regretted to confess to it, but, she did have a small tendency to be a bit clumsy at the worst times, and she feared this small tendency would curse her.

Arabelle was enjoying a spirited conversation with Jamie, the most ardent and childish of the group, when Madrid stood and nodding to Arabelle, gave her the signal they must be going. Arabelle replied with a nod of her own but Jamie refused to notice and kept up the conversation as if they had been the only two in the room. Arabelle smiled pleasantly, as the young man continued on his long and highly exaggerated story, and remained where she was. This, going on for longer than Madrid could stand, came around the group and wrapping his hand around the lad's mouth to still him silenced him without a single protest.

"An incredibly fascinating story to be sure but I believe Madrid would like to leave now." Arabelle smiled sweetly, but trying not to laugh at the lad's innocent but unhappy expression.

"You could have just told me." Jamie glared at Madrid when he was released. Madrid laughed, mockingly, then slapped the back of his head tauntingly-something Arabelle found happened quite often between the youth.

"I did." Madrid scowled, his eyes dancing with laugher. "Seven times!"

"Well that's not my fault!" Jamie whined, rubbing his head. "If the other lads weren't so loud all the time I could have-"

"That's a load of bunk if I've ever heard one." Avery scoffed, smirking at the youngster who pouted silently in return. "We've heard that story of yours scores of time and I for one am not hearing it again. It gets longer and more dangerous each time. And to think it started out as a Pirana from the rivers of Africa, and now it's a bloodthirsty sea monster the size of Limerick."

Arabelle, ardently trying not to laugh, choked momentarily on a quick breath and quickly pushed her lips together tightly, regarding the floor praying she was not observed. Jamie continued to protest but only received yet another short reprimand from Avery, backed up by the other's witty remarks. Madrid, taking this distraction for granted, made his way to Arabelle's side and flashed a small grin as he noticed her thin lips and tense face. She was holding in her smile with difficulty but he was pleased this diversion had assisted in granting her amusement.

"Avery's not the oldest but he acts like it the most. You'll come to find he's well respected by all, but to us he's still one of the rabble."

"I can see that." Arabelle whispered, watching the exchange dissipate and the general merriment resume.

"We best take this opportunity to leave." Madrid whispered, turning Arabelle towards the door, and without much effort succeed in slipping out of the room unnoticed.

"I never heard your choice." Arabelle said as they wove their way through the jumble of tables and benches.

"My choice?... oh yes, you mean my chosen way to die."

"Well I didn't mean it that harshly, surely."

Madrid chuckled and all the same gave her his answer.

"A broken neck?" She exclaimed, Madrid scoffed in good humor at her surprise but nodded. "But on deck you told me, those who wish to fall will fall and those who do not will not."

"Aye, and one day I shall chose to fall."

Arabelle pondered this, unhappily furrowing her brow and nibbling her lip.

"Come now, don't frown so." Madrid nudged her arm with his elbow and grinned cheekily. "You'll get old."

Arabelle scoffed, and swatting at him as he stepped into the corridor she looked over her shoulder at the group, ominous to their departure. Suddenly remembering one forgotten story she paused just outside the door.

"Madrid. What about your friend, Sam."

"Sam?" Madrid paused on the bottom step, leading back to the deck, and looked back at her. "What about 'im?"

"Have you heard his request?"

"Aye."

"What is it?" Arabelle stared back into the room, her eyes fixed on the dark quiet young man sitting off from the group looking out of place somehow at this distance.

"He wants to hang."

There was a silence.

"A bloody lack of originality if you ask me." Madrid laughed, leading up the stairs, unbeknownst Arabelle was not at his heels.

* * *

:The REF "Pirates don't drown" was from a proverb that says something to the effect of "Those born to hang never drown."

Also if you want to check out some pics of the new cast lineup here are a few people/characters i have loosely based on real people:

Dominic: Paul Dano

Watson: Emile Hirsch

Sam: Penn Bradgley

Madrid: Tim Pocock

Arabelle: Marion Cotillard

As more characters arrive on the scene and are based on others I'll let you know to check 'em out. Until then,

Later


	26. Three Days

:August already! Here's another chapter, not much new with me and I don't want to waste your time. Read and Review- that's all I have to say.

* * *

Arabelle stood in the belly of the ship, scowling across the spacious hold with a crude wooden 'sword' in her hand. Actually it was a rough old splinter of a thing but it served it's purpose or so Madrid thought.

"This is ridiculous!" She exclaimed throwing her hands in the air and cursing her tender splintered hands. "I'm never going to learn how to fight with a splintered old plank."

Madrid hung his head and let his shoulder sagged. For hours he had been listening to her complain about the object she held in her hand and for hours he had defended it, but she never listened. She was so stubborn!

"You'd be surprised if you saw some of the things we fight with here." Avery reproved loyally, from his locality atop a pile of crates.

Arabelle thrust her hands on her hips and glowered at him. He wasn't helping her at all. Avery shrugged, smiled, and went back to the bottle that hung from his hand leaving Arabelle to try once again to get her way.

"It's true! "Jamie interjected from across the hold, also sitting on a crate. "You'll never know when a rope, a ladle or a mug will come in handy."

Phillips, sorely tempted to cuff Jamie, sneered at the boy but shook his head and faced Arabelle.

"This is the way you learn to fight with a real sword without killing yourself in the process." He explained then looked down at Jamie. "We don't fight with ladles. Idiot."

Madrid sniffled a scoff and rubbed his face. "Would you just try?"

"No! This will never-"

"Oi! What's goin' on in here?"

All five turned and watched the shadows recede as a lantern approached. Holding the lantern was Finley, a crewmen, or rather the ship's carpenter, Arabelle had met the previous day.

"We're trying to teach the child to fight."

Arabelle scowled and threw the sword at his feet as Finely rolled his eyes and disappeared once again, apparently too busy with his own affairs to hang around and watch. Madrid, with his jaw clenched, walked across the hold to Avery and received the bottle from his friend without a word. Madrid drank heartily and handed the bottle back, which Avery took and downed a swig of his own. Arabelle on the other hand smugly crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back on the men and scowled.

"There's no reason to start insulting me. I have handled a blade before, and I do know how the fight."

"Then why don't you stop running your little mouth and show us!" Madrid exclaimed facing her once more.

"Because I'm not fighting with a sliver of wood that's why!" Arabelle spun around and jutted out her jaw at him bitterly.

"Well if you really knew how to fight you wouldn't give a damn!"

"What do you care anyway? I won't be on board long." She snapped

"Really? And we all thought you were dying to stay and embrace the life of piracy."

Arabelle scowled at Phillips and his sarcasm but he showed no remorse, he only smirked like his cheeky self and watched the theatrics continue.

"Over your dead body."

"Was that a treat?" he smirked

"You have to a-"

"Enough you two!"

A hush fell amongst the group at Madrid's command but the atmosphere only grew heavier to everyone's discomfort.

"Now, Belle, weather you like it you will need to learn to fight. You've already been here almost two weeks and if you-"

"Aye, but who cares if I can beat a brute with a sword? Nobody! Just because you call yourself pirates doesn't mean you're going to jump at any opportunity to pillage any ship! Surely your not that stupid, besides there must be something else I can do while on board."

"Sure you can-"

"Shut it Phillips!" Madrid growled.

Phillips smirked and shook it off, not even slightly alarmed at the calm lookout's sudden aggression.

"Jumping ships and taking plunder doesn't matter, if we were to take a ship while you're on board the boarding party surely wouldn't include you! Not one would want to share their booty with you, the point is protection. If we-"

"Protection?" Arabelle scoffed. "Who cares about such things here? Currently I am willing to do a number of things to secure my safety and you can be assured none of them include a sword."

Madrid raised his chin and breathed deeply, he held his lips tight quite vexed by this woman's attitude he didn't know to swear or scoff in good faith. She sure was a vixen, that he could see now but he didn't quite like her not on his side.

"I have a feeling you'll be singing a different tune when that very thing happens."

Arabelle stepped forward. "I may not be a pirate but I can handle myself pretty well, I have before and I have not forgotten."

"Oh really?" Phillips laughed.

"Yes."

"Come on Belle, just pick up the sword and try it, show us-" Madrid handed her back the wooden sword.

"It's not a sword!"

Madrid turned away cracking his knuckles in frustration as Phillips smirked down at them both, agitated and bitter when there was no immediate cause.

"A bad workman always blames his tools."

"What?" Arabelle turned to him, not catching what he said.

"Phillips-" Avery tried to stop him but it was useless.

"It means an unskilled worker will blame bad work on his tools, or in this case sword, rather than himself."

Arabelle tensed and feeling a scowl was not enough, nor would cursing make her feel better, clenched her fists and glowered at them all.

"Aug! Forget it! Have it your way you bloody, thickheaded drifters!" She threw the sword at Madrid, who caught it clumsily as it thwacked his chest. "Don't teach me how to fight, don't teach me how to do anything, don't even talk to me!"

"Fine I won't!"

"Fine!"

Arabelle turned and hastily made her retreat into the dark, her heart pounding and her fingers twitching with anger while the lads immediately began cursing and scolding each other, trying to pin the blame on the most deserving of recipients.

Caught of guard by the harsh ribbon of midday sunlight Arabelle stumbled at the top of the steps onto the deck milling with ignorant sailors. Arabelle did not even care for them at this time, not even worrying about any attentions until she noticed the captain conversing on the sparr deck with his quartermaster.

As much as Arabelle wanted to walk right up to him and demand she be dropped off at the very next port, and if not, given a long boat and she would row herself ashore when she overheard them.

"And then there's..."

"What?" The captain frowned at his quartermaster's reluctance.

"The girl."

Teague chuckled. "Don't worry about the wench, she'll never last long enough to reach Ila Amsterdam. Either she'll jump overboard or jump ship at the first sight of land."

"What if she jumps at Port Louis?"

"Then even less for us to worry about. Port Louis may be safe enough for the wench but we don't dock there."

Marshal chuckled callously. "Aye, Cannoniers Point will prove to be a nice spot to drop 'er."

"There's to be no word of this." Teague warned.

"Aye captain."

Arabelle's anger flared, Madrid and the other's forgotten, she thought of the captain and his scheme to be rid of her. As much as she wanted to be appalled at the thought of such a thing, of such a underhanded thing to do to someone- all she thought of was his promise. Arabelle hardly thought this place, this Cannoniers Point was a safe port. Not by the way Mr. Marshal had grinned at it. Arabelle shouldn't have been surprised, they were pirates, but she couldn't help but feel betrayed. Betrayed and helpless.

"Belle."

Arabelle turned and watched Madrid come forward from below looking reluctant by the way his eyes skittered across the deck, hardly rested upon her, but Arabelle herself didn't care much for apologies or reluctance so she quickly put her frustration toward the young man behind her and stepped towards him.

"What's Cannoniers Point?"

Madrid frowned instantly. "Why, what did you-"

"It isn't a safe place is it?"

Madrid scoffed but still looked concerned. "Is hell a summer estate?"

Arabelle pursed her lips and thought. "How impossible would staying be? I mean only until I decide to leave?"

"You want to...?"

"It's better than the captain deciding to-"

"Speaking of the captain." Madrid raised his brow and smirked, motioning over Arabelle's shoulder. She froze and Madrid flashed a grin.

"Captain."

Arabelle heard Teague approach and stop, she quickly pulled herself together and turned but avoided his face and black eyes.

"Dov'e stato?" He demanded

Arabelle quickly glanced at him, his tone alarming but his words lost in translation. Clearly he wasn't pleased and clearly he didn't want to be understood- he seemed pleased she was frowning..

"Funzionare."

The captain frowned and tossed his chin in Arabelle's direction.

"Ragazza? Intanto?"

"Si. Gia molto bene."

"E lei?"

Madrid laughed "Benissimo sempre Captain!"

Teague grumbled. "Buono. Tre giorno sinitro"

"But captain-" Madrid protested, clearly distressed.

The captain only frowned and repeated. "Tre giorno sinitro."

The turning and leaving Arabelle turned once again to Madrid as soon as the captain had left.

"What did he say?" she exclaimed. "He talked about Cannoniers point didn't he?"

Madrid frowned and looked at her sincerely. "We have three days."

"Then what?" she demanded "What else did he say?"

"You miraculously find yourself on the captain's good side or you'll be left there."

Arabelle frowned, resisting the urge to curse she bit her lip.

" I'll be left there." She echoed in thought. "What if-"

Madrid quieted her immediately with his sincere frown. "No Belle. As much as I don't want you taking any share of our swag or gettin' in the way I won't let you get dropped there. For any length of time."

Arabelle smiled weakly, touched by her friends' sincerity but troubled by her bleak future.

Madrid nudged her with his elbow and reluctantly beaconed her to follow.

"Come on. It's time you put those pretty hands to work."

Arabelle shielded her eyes from the sun and sighed.

"Up we go then?" she asked eyeing the mast and ratlines she had been climbing endlessly over the past few days.

"We'll have to get you some kohl." Madrid observed looking her over, painfully blinked rapidly.

"Kohl, the charcoal like powder smudged around the eye?" Arabelle frowned. "I'd look like a saltwater tart."

"That or stay out on deck all day and night, get accustom to the sun always beating down on you and let your eyes adjust to it's harshness." Madrid smirked, leaning against the railing with a smug expression.

"Is that what you do?"

"Aye. I can't stand to stay below deck too long."

"You feel trapped?"

"Aye, like I was buried alive."

"Well I don't think I could stay on deck all the time, even if I wished too."

"That mean you'll use the kohl?" he asked expectantly.

"No, that means I will suffer. I don't care to look like a strumpet thank you very much."

"It works, come on luv, just a little. That captain uses it!"

"And all the more reason not to use it."

Madrid smirked.

So, it was so simply settled from that moment on-she would work. She would secure a place to stay on this ship at least until the ship was berthed in a safe and prosperous port but as much as she was grateful for that assurance she did not relish the idea that this seemingly easy task could take weeks.

* * *

Arabelle woke the next morning early as she had been growing accustom to during the days previous, when Madrid began teaching her. He had insisted they begin early, so as not to draw any attention to their continual disappearances, but this morning Madrid was no where in sight. Madrid had always been waiting when she awoke, but this morning he was absent.

Arabelle none the less roused herself and with the bucket of water in one corner of her pleasant barred abode, she splashed it onto her face and then satisfied herself with a drink. She then, frowning at her fraying dress and wishing she might be able to change it, laughed at herself. She had no other dresses and no other possessions. She was living in a prison cell for heavens sake! What use of concern for clean and proper attire did she have? It was then that she, with a chuckle on her lips, went back to her crude little cot and sat down once again, waiting for Madrid to come and free her.

Arabelle waited for a good while before she sighed, twittering her thumbs and wiggling her toes, she looked around peevishly, wondering where Madrid was. Truthfully she was quite unhappy about being forgotten and left alone all locked up. She glanced at the door once again and frowned. Pulling herself to her feet, Arabelle walked over to it and gently pushed at it. To her surprise the door slowly swung open with a creak and, a smile appearing on her lips, she rejoiced over her sudden and unexpected freedom.

Arabelle stepped through the doorway and looked around the hold cautiously, expecting to find a face watching her but she saw nothing, and besides the soft moans from the other detainees she heard nothing. With a sense of concern gnawing at her mind she hesitated in the direction of the dark cells, she knew there was others being held captive but her anxiety and weakness prevented her from venturing towards them. She could do nothing for them, nor did she think she would. Instead she turned for the stairs and headed up them.

Arabelle was halfway up the steep steps when she was assaulted mercilessly by her grumbling stomach, which she clutched and groaned over. She hadn't eaten in nearly an entire day and Madrid usually brought her some food in the morning or late evening, Arabelle didn't know when she could get food, or in what state it would be. She was in the midst of grumbling about waiting to eat until that evening, or until she found her forgetful watchman when she was surrounded by a heavenly aroma. She had no idea what the smell was exactly but it smelled like the beef stew her grandmother used to make every Sunday.

Arabelle quickly ran up the remaining steps and hastened down the corridor until she found herself enveloped in the magnificent smell of bubbling stew, the sound of crackling fire and the low rumble of a tuneless singing. Arabelle did not even hesitate as she straddled the threshold, but bolding followed her nose into the empty galley- her roaring stomach leading the way.

Entering the galley she glanced about the room quickly before she, emboldened by her hunger, walked to the closed door on the opposite wall and knocked. She was not sure if she could be heard but she waited and flinched when yelling suddenly came from beyond the door.

" Now the signal was made for the Grand fleet to anchor! We chewed up our tops'la, stuck out tacks and sheets... Oh! Farewell an' adieu to you fair Spanish ladies! Farewell an' adieu to you ladies of Spain!"

Arabelle smirked and covering her mouth, hiding her giggles within, she judged by the broken singing that the occupant was pretty harmless. She knocked again, harder this time, and waited. Slowly the singing grew softer and footsteps grew louder.

Jumping back as the door opened Arabelle's eyes quickly jumped to the face of the man standing before her. He stood near a good foot taller than she, with strong muscular arms pulling his shirt sleeves taunt, his face was reddened by heat and his skin was dark caramel. Suddenly Arabelle was at a loss for words. Not that she was practical but she had never been up close to a black man before. The man, not even surprised to find a woman at his door, tossed the cloth he was holding, up onto his shoulder and stared down at her, and wiped his hands.

"What?"

"Um... I was wondering if..." Arabelle stammered, not entirely knowing what she wanted to say or ask.

"Wondering what? Food's not ready yet and unless ye're here to chop onions I don't need to wasting me time." The man retorted firmly.

Arabelle lowered her eyes and mumbled something about being very hungry that more less sounded like a poor child pleading for food than a grown woman asking to be obliged with some small scrap.

"What was that?" The man asked gruffly.

Arabelle gripped her skirt and slowly looked up. "Might I help you prepare the meal for something small to eat?"

"Can you handle a knife?"

"Yes sir."

"You have a steady head in the kitchen?"

"I can make bread and am good at following instructions... sir."

The man narrowed his eyes and then turned on his heel. "Then I suppose I could put you to work. Now mind your fingers and do exactly as I say or I'll kick you out of me kitchen flat on your arse you hear."

"Aye sir." Arabelle replied quickly and stepped into the hot and sticky kitchen.

* * *

An hour later Arabelle was still toiling in the crude kitchen, true to his word the cook had put her to work and expertly used her skills against her. Once she had cut through the pile of vegetables he had pointed to a sack of wheat flour and told her to get to work. She was now kneading her dough for the last time and wiping her brow she set it by the blazing stove and turned to find the cook ladling out bowls of stew. Arabelle's mouth watered and her stomach growled even louder than before but yet again she was refused a taste. Wiping her face with the edge of her apron Arabelle sighed deeply, she was exhausted even more than Madrid's arduous sparring lessons had left her. She had no doubt in her mind that this man had been a crusader in a previous life because he ran his kitchen like a general on campaign.

Taking the brief quiet minute to rest Arabelle lowered herself onto the chair in the corner, but no sooner than she had sat down did the cook call to her up again.

"Skirt!"

Arabelle grumbled under her breath, about the derogatory name he had bestowed upon her as soon as they met, and hastened to his side. The cook shoved two bowls of stew into her hands and threw his chin towards the closed door.

"Pass these out."

"What?"

The cook shoved another bowl into her hands and grabbed a handful of spoons, shoving them into the pocket of her apron. Arabelle protested, sploshing some of the precious gravy from one of the bowls onto her apron and the man's hand. Immediately she shrunk back in fear but other than the cook looking up at her with a cold frown as he wiped the burning liquid away, he did nothing to cause undue fear.

"You deaf? I said pass 'em out, and get back here quick we've got thirty mouths to feed."

Arabelle swallowed hard and looking to the door she heard the rustle of benches, boots and the mummer of voices- noises she had not heard immersed in the workings of the hot and sticky kitchen. As fearful as she was a quick look at the bowls of the hot and spicy stew stilled her nerves and propelled her through the door.

Nearly every table was full, which she quickly calculated to end up with roughly twenty people. Without time to scan the crowd for friendly faces she made for the closest table and dropped the bowls of stew into waiting hands. Without mumbling a comment of thanks, or looking up to see the one that had dished out their food was not the cook as it had always been, the men descended upon their food with vigor, which both made Arabelle weak with hunger and gracious she was not seen.

Arabelle made two more trips to the kitchen before the general chatter and conversation in the hold was broken by a voice that raised her eyes. She had just dropped the second bowl of stew on the table when a hand reached out for the third.

"Well, if it isn't the little prodigy?"

Arabelle looked up and came face to face with a grinning Watson. Quickly she glanced around for any more familiar faces but all the faces were lost amidst the crowd, and she did not waste her time looking. She turned back to Watson, handed him his bowl and retrieved a spoon from her apron.

"Please not now Watson." She hissed and passed the next bowl to the man on his right.

"You leave wings for Hardy? What happened, I though you two were inseparable."

"Hardly."

Arabelle passed out the other bowl and prepared to leave the men to eat, so as to return to the kitchen in hopes of receiving a bowl herself but Watson stopped her.

"Really? I thought you two resembled young lovers the way you both cling to each oth-"

Arabelle gave Watson a firm, scolding frown. "Madrid has become prevailed upon to watch over me, under the captain's orders, nothing more. Now are you here to eat or ask questions for I will gladly eat your share."

Watson grinned and swatting her hand away with his spoon, turned back to the table of rowdy men and ate as bidden without anymore questions.

* * *

Arabelle didn't even bother to survey the dirty tables before she sat down-she didn't care she only wanted to feel some hard surface under her and take the weight of her shaking legs. It had been a cruel afternoon of hard work but the promises of a reward were well worth it.

Arabelle could barely lift her head let along her hand when the cook placed a large bowl of steaming stew before her, she felt even too tired to eat but she forced a spoonful down and was instantly lost in the flurry of spices and the variety of tantalizing tastes. She didn't care if it was lady like or not she wolfed down the entire bowl and crust of bread like she had been starving for years. The cook, who had been gruff and stern the entire day, suddenly took on a gentle person and had the decency to avert his eyes as she gorged herself, waiting until she had polished off the bowl before he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with another steaming bowl, two mugs and a bottle.

Arabelle content with some food in her stomach ate slowly this time, savoring each bite, as the cook poured two mugs before he set his eyes upon her and her tight grip on her food.

"How's it taste?"

Arabelle smiled blissfully. "Amazing."

"Good."

The cook watched as Arabelle ripped a chunk of bread off her peace and plop it into her mouth, savor the taste and hesitantly inch her hand to the mug that was offered here. The cook watched her a moment. In the kitchen, as she had dished out the men's meals, he had tasted her bread and was amazed. It was the best bread he had ever tasted, so light and airy, it was even without seeds from the wheat flour. He had been amazed, even himself being a seasoned cook and baker, that she had such talent for being so young.

"Where'd you ever learn to make bread like that?"

"My grandmother taught me when I was very young, she was the best baker in all of New Zealand. She made an amazing beef stew like this but she was a little more... sparing with the spices." Arabelle smiled, content, and tasted a drop from the mug.

The cook chuckled at her, watching her movements, slow and steady, wondering what was she ever doing here.

"You got a name skirt?" He asked.

"I do. Do you?"

Cook chuckled again and offered his hand, pleased to meet a woman with such wit and skill in the kitchen with looks that certainly must have been the envy of many. "Thomas Hardy, cook, retired messenger, freed slave and former tribal hunter."

Arabelle smiled, and contrary to her first impression of the man, met his coal eyes with ease, took his hand and shook it.

"Belle Sparrow, formerly of Cardiff England but sorely lacking such a detailed title as yours. I was a seamstress once but I was horrible."

Thomas grinned "You make one hell of a loaf of bread."

Arabelle, tired and exhausted, laughed and took a sip from her mug forgetting completely that this drink was probably not water. She sputtered her way through the gulp and with a gasp and cough forced it down as Thomas watched- fascinated to witness someone's first taste of spiced African wine.

"Thank you." She whispered, cringing at the strong spicy liquid she had just voluntarily injected into her body.

"I could use another hand in the kitchen, you interested?"

Arabelle pondered the thought.

"Do you think I would be any good?"

"By the way the men took to that bread I'm sure you'd catch onto the rhythm in no time."

"Will you keep calling me _skirt_?" She asked with a smile.

Thomas covered his grin with his hand but his eyes danced. "I've never forgot a pretty girl's name and I ain't about to now."

Arabelle grinned and nodded, offering her hand she shook the black man's once again. "Very well we have a deal... if the captain approves, that is."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about him, I'll see to it that he does." Thomas winked and with that he stood. "Once I've convinced him I'll send a man to find you, but until then how's about starting another batch of loaves once your through filling your stomach."

Arabelle nodded and spooned the last few vegetables into her awaiting mouth as Thomas disappeared into the kitchen, ready to begin clean up of the last meal and begin the next. Kitchen work went on perpetually on a ship, having different shifts off at different times, there had to always be food either ready, waiting or in the process of cooking. Thomas didn't deny the fact that he could use an extra pair of hands in the kitchen, he had been telling this to Teague for months without progress, but as he glanced at the woman sitting in the galley alone, out of place and awkward, he would have never guessed he would receive the exact help he needed from such unfortunate circumstances that had transpired days prior.

* * *


	27. The Unlikely

:This is 'September Chapter One'. This one is a tad short so I'll post another in a week or two. The port is taking time to tweak. I hope you're all happy about Teague's choice in this chapter- starting to move things along.

Please Reveiw, I'm loosing heart not hearing from you. Thanks mates.

* * *

It was the next day when Arabelle was called to the captain's cabin. She was not under the impression that she would see him again after their cold meeting on deck a few days prior but it was the day they were to reach port so she was ever more anxious. She awoke early and began her work in the kitchen to prepare the bread for breakfast and then quickly washed, dusted off her dress, tucked her unruly hair behind her ears and made her way up the stairs silently towards her doom. Anxious as she was, she felt very skittish and jumped at every noise, cursing herself as she felt foolish for her sad state of nerves. It could not be helped though, so she as she emerged from the hold she patted her knotted hair, straightened the folds of her skirt and walked directly to the cabin door- rather hoping to get this ordeal over quickly and painlessly. She was determined to rejoice come what may, and not be afraid.

Arabelle lifted her hand to knock when the door opened and Marshal appeared. Frowning darkly, he looked her up and down and growled as he pushed by her. Arabelle stood frozen on the spot but with the door left open she could both see and hear the captain inside. So Arabelle quickly swallowed the anxiety Marshal's scowl had risen in her and entered the cabin without even knocking. She quickly slipped through the shadows and closing the door behind her she took a breath.

"You wanted to see me?"

The captain looked up immediately and after ushering the tiniest amount of surprise his face grew dark and solemn.

"Yes."

Arabelle clasped her hands before her and watched him.

"Have I done something wrong?"

Teague scoffed and stood, which made him look more menacing than when he sat but also forced Arabelle to look into his coal black eyes.

"That depends on what you mean."

Arabelle frowned, her eyes flickered across his face and met his eyes again but it was impossible to know his meaning. She didn't dare retort so she plainly asked, saving herself any unneeded embarrassment.

"Am I to be left at this port?"

Teague smirked and leaned against his desk before her.

"Some might wish you to, but surprisingly enough, that is for you to decide."

Arabelle gaped at him. "Real- ... why?"

Laughter permeated the captain's eyes as he looked at her severely. "You'd rather I decide for you?"

"No!" Arabelle gasped then quickly pulled herself back, regretting she had ever opened her mouth. "Are... do you mean that I can _stay_?"

Teague raised his brow and looked at her.

"...Until I we dock at another port that is."

He smirked again. "Aye."

Arabelle's heart swelled, and for some unbidden reason she blurted out an enthusiastic mention of gratitude. Quickly she clasped her hand over her mouth, both embarrassed and betrayed by her words. Other than displaying a short show of surprise, Teague said nothing, which actually rallied Arabelle's bravery.

"Why?"

"Why what?" he asked, void of expression.

"_Why _allow me to stay?"

"You'd rather I didn't?" He asked quickly. "Your removal will be swiftly done."

"No. Please. Do not misunderstand me captain. I am indebted to you for your mercy and kindness..." she replied with some reluctance but in actuality her gratitude was sincere, she could not conceal it. "... but I only wonder why you have chosen to concede to my continued presence."

Teague raised his brow and looked at her with the facade of laziness. He had little patience for colorful and dainty speech and would much rather get to the point quickly, besides by the way she spoke on normal instances he wondered why in God's name she even picked up such a 'dainty' ways and words of speech. There was no need to stand on accord, no need to impress-out here it was quick and simple, there wasn't enough time for high and mighty words. She would need to learn that.

"Although your presence is an unwanted one you have proved yourself able as of yet and of use. Mr. Hardy on occasion has expressed a wish for an apprentice and currently you fit the bill. So, surprisingly, you are welcome to remain thanks to the bastard who needs the use of your hands." Teague explained with a low grumble of authority. "We will be docking at Mauritius shortly and I suggest you do what's needed. We will not dock again for some time. If you chose to stay you needn't linger. Leave word with Marshal or one of the lads and be off. You'll take nothing but this."

Teague tossed a small satchel the size of her fist onto the desk before Arabelle. She picked it up and looked at the dull coins inside, feeling a shrill feeling of independence swell inside her, she smiled.

"Courtesy of your late captain and crew." Teague gave her a cool smirk. "Hopefully it with silence any ideas of protests of desertion, although such may be of benefit."

Arabelle shook her head and felt the pouch again and felt an unnerving calm wash over her, she looked across the desk and met the captain's eyes. For a moment she could have sworn something passed between them which only left her feeling cold and wondering but the captain quickly chased such a notion out of her head.

"What are you waiting for? That's all you're getting. Now out, and be lively. When we dock I want you out of here."

Arabelle stepped back and as if a reflex uttered, ever so much like the sailors and pirates now her company, "Aye captain."

As the door closed behind her Teague stood and turned to the window. He stood gazing out at the sea receding and the ever distant horizon, his mind going over the general needs when berthed when he unexpectedly smiled gently against the soft sunshine.

* * *

Arabelle could hardly contain her excitement as she tore down the stairs below deck, she could hardly wait to find Madrid and spring this on him! She stumbled down the steps and burst into the galley where, judging by the hour, he could be found. She was not disappointed. The whole rabble was there, slumped over the tables talking and jeering each other as always. Arabelle walked in, her breath cut short from her excitement and her knees quaking but the men greeted her with smiles all around as soon as she was spotted.

"There's Belle!"

"Over here!"

" 'elo Belle."

"How'd if go with the captain? We heard he'd sent for you." Avery stood and offering Belle his place she grinned.

"I can stay."

Jamie was the first to react, _screech truly_, the other's just fell back into a silent shock.

"What?"

"Did you-"

"Well I never..."

Arabelle grinned and took the seat offered, glad to rest her shaking legs.

"I told you she's in 'is bed!" Phillips exclaimed jumping to his feet and throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

"I am not, sod off." Arabelle swatted at him but couldn't help but laugh at the cheeky look on his face.

"What did he say?"

Arabelle looked down the table at Dominic and took a shaky breath. "He said I had proven myself worthy to continue amidst the crew for a short time since I've begun to Help Mr. Hardy. I'm even allowed a shore leave when we dock."

Madrid grinned from where he sat, happy about her excitement, but something didn't sit right with him. This wasn't Teague. Why exactly did the captain relent? What was he accomplishing because of this?

"You're glad I see." Avery smiled.

"Couldn't bare to be parted with us could you?" Phillips asked

Arabelle cast him a cold glance but the pirate took the hint and grinned. With Phillips, Arabelle had to confess, it was hard not to smile at his cheeky debonaire.

"Did he say where we were docking luv?" Madrid asked, oblivious to any other conversation, spoken or unspoken, going on.

"Some place called Mauri_... _something or other, but yesterday I heard him mention a place called Cannoniers Point."

All the lads grew quiet.

"Mauritius."

The men looked at each other silently, causing Arabelle to grow increasingly anxious by each passing moment of silence. These lads were not the type to be silent or reverent and now they seemed to be both and it unnerved her. She was about to ask what was so fear-inspiring about this place when Madrid, without moving, beaconed Dominic.

"Go find Sam, and be quick."

Quickly the lad did as he was told and fled from the room, leaving only an eery silence behind.

"Madrid, wha-"

Madrid shushed her instantly with his eyes, which caused her to shrink back in her seat and watch in meek but anxious silence.

"Jamie, a bottle of rum from Hardy... and be smart about it."

Jamie leapt to his feet after a brief nod.

"Watson."

"I'm on it."

Watson too got to his feet and disappeared out the door leaving only Hunter, Avery, Phillips, Madrid and Arabelle behind to wait.

Dominic and Sam arrived a few minutes later and Madrid stood, meeting them at the door, but Dominic quickly slipped past them and returned to the tables. Arabelle questioned him with her eyes but he shrugged. He was as lost as she was. She turned to Avery instead as Jamie returned with the bottle of rum and took it to Madrid.

Arabelle leaned over to Avery and nudged his leg as Madrid conferred with Sam silently by the door.

"What's going on?"

"With what?"

"Avery!" she hissed. "What's Sam doing here? Why did Madrid call Sam?"

Avery swallowed and was the pure picture of pity. "Sam's got a clear head about things like this. He-"

"Things like what?"

"Never you mind. 'Sides Wings may just need some advice."

"From Sam?"

"Aye. No one knows Mauritius like Sam."

"How's that? He live there?"

Avery shifted in his seat. "You could say that."

"Belle."

Arabelle sat straight and looked across the table where Madrid and Sam were now standing. She wished to give Avery a cold look for such an answer but there was no time. She'd demand more later- now there were more important things to think of.

Madrid took a seat across the table from Arabelle, while Sam sat at the end with the bottle and one glass. The men didn't even glance at him, they kept their eyes on Madrid but Arabelle found it hard not to look at the man she had only seem shift through the crew like a ghost during her stay. He didn't seem natural, his beauty and his tight lipped nature. She was surprised he had come out of hiding, then again she remembered what Madrid had told her on the subject some time ago.

_'He doesn't take well to new faces. Don't take it personally, it's who Sam is. He isn't the most trusting bloke you'll ever meet but he's the kind of friend you never want to loose. Give him space, give him time and he's sure to come around eventually.' _

"Belle, do you remember the captain saying anything else while you were in with him?" Madrid asked her gently causing her concern to flare.

"Why, what's going on?"

"Nothing, we're just curious why you were asked to stay when the captain apparently ain't enjoying many minutes of it. 'Sides there's quite a few men on board who'd wish you gone quick and they ain't being quiet 'bout it."

"Why don't you ask the captain?"

Madrid sighed. "It's not the easy. Please Belle. We're just trying to help you. We know the captain... you don't."

She couldn't argue with that. "Like I said before. The captain just said that although he didn't like me here I had proved myself an asset and that I could stay but if I decided to leave I was more than welcome. He gave me a small satchel of money said we would be docking at Mauritius shortly and not dock again for some time and then he just told me to leave."

"How much did he give you?"

Arabelle turned to Phillips.

"What does it matter?"

"Depending on the amount it could attest to the fact that he wants something from you instead of being merciful."

Arabelle bit back a retort. _Merciful? Him? _But she caught herself and frowned.

"Are you insinuating..."

"Hey, mistresses cost a lot of money! I'm just saying."

Madrid frowned and cast a warning look at Phillips, who shrugged and went off to find a drink.

Madrid turned to Sam who was pouring himself a glass full of rum, his eyes on his drink but his attention to the others.

"The amount is of no matter to this."

Madrid nodded. _Well enough said. Leave it at that. _

"What does this have to do with Mauritius?" Belle asked, tired of these loose questions and no solid explanation.

Madrid looked down the table and Sam sat silent, rotating his glass as if to amuse his hands and occupy his thoughts. Again he spoke without meeting any eyes.

"Mauritius is a dangerous place for the likes of you girl. Whether or not the captain has something in mind for you that doesn't concern us. _Any of us." Sam _looked at Madrid, who resigned his authoritative look for a moment. "Whatever the captain decides we will back him. But as for you..."

He looked at Belle pointedly with nothing like warmth in his look. Arabelle felt her confidence strain and her lip stiffen. His black eyes, set in that perfect face, narrowed slightly. He saw her boldness flare and he challenged it.

"You will do as the captain says. If you have the chance to leave, I suggest you take it."

"Thanks for the advice." Arabelle meet his eyes coldly. "But as of yet... I'm not going anywhere."


	28. A Hand Full

* * *

When the tension had subsided the men rejoiced over the news that Belle would continue with them for a longer time than thought but she held tightly to her belief that it would only be until she found a place to live. The men laughed at her, knowing better about the contagious charms of this free life, and Phillips prodded her with his finger, yet again reminding her there was room in his hammock. Belle swatted him away and shared a very bold, curt, statement she would _never _do such a thing. The men laughed it off and went to discussing what she would be doing, not bothering to consider _why _she had been allowed to stay.

Someone did however bother to consider. Madrid, watched the scene for only a short time before he took his leave from the group and went in search of the captain for an explanation about this change concerning his little protégée.

Madrid found him quickly, for he was standing on deck conversing with Grant about some request for sturdier equipment. Madrid waited for a time but as the conversation showed no signs of slowing he stepped forward, interrupting yes but he wasn't about to stand here like a fool. Besides he wasn't very pleased.

"May I have a moment, captain?"

Teague turned and nodded. Madrid shifted but held the captain's glare.

"In private."

Teague stared straight into his eyes and without expression regarded him for any falters, seeing none and the apparent seriousness of the overall request Teague turned away.

"Aye alright. Wait in the cabin."

Madrid nodded and left, going directly to the cabin.

Not having to wait long at all, Teague arrived a short time later and without even waiting for the captain to reach mid cabin Madrid jumping directly into his appeal for an explanation.

"Why was it you allowed Belle to stay?"

"Isn't that my business?" Teague replied taking off his hat and tossing it onto the desk, not even bothering with the man's lack of respect.

Teague never bothered with such things when in private with his trusted men. He was close with a few of his men, he knew them well, they knew him enough to dispose of the title as comrads when away from prying ears. It showed the level they were all on but they knew their place. Before they men they were below him, they took his orders without question, behind his door they were friends and could be frank. It was that simple.

"I think I have the right to know as well. You did place me in charge of her safety."

"You worried I'm putting her in danger?"

"We aren't necessarily in the safest business." Madrid warned.

"No business is safe."

"If she stays she could be hurt or killed! Are we ready to take on a person such as her just yet?"

"Just yet? What the hell you talkin' about? A few days ago you were begging for her to stay."

"Aye but I never thought you'd grant that wish.""

Teague sighed and rubbed his chin.

"I've thought it over and decided she should do fine. Besides what right minded captain would fire upon an honest merchant vessel of their own country?"

"But we're not merchant vessel. Let alone _honest_!"

"How would they know the difference?"

"Um… we fly a jolly roger and have a crew a few cards short of navy tars. They would surly see that straight off."

"Not if there was a woman strolling on our deck."

"They- what!"

Teague's eyebrow twitched, arching defiantly. "What nob would fire upon a merchant vessel with a woman, dressed in all her finery, strolling along the spar deck followed by her servant?"

"You can't be.... is that why you agreed to let her stay?"

He smirked. "Even you can the gain in that."

"It could work." Madrid couldn't help but flash a quick grin.

"It will work."

"She'll never agree, she wants nothing to do with piracy."

"She will if she knows what's best for her."

Madrid looked off and thought on this. It was defiantly a better plan to use with her then simply sending her over with the rest of them, cutlass and pistol in hand. And a great deal less dangerous. Yes maybe she'd agree, at least he hoped she would.

"Here." Teague handed Madrid a small satchel of coins. "I've already given her money but take this. She'll buy a dress I guarantee she will but we need one that's finer than that thing she wears around the ship. Get one or two, fine dresses for when we pull this off. And look for some clothes for the men to wear. Three or four will have to dress up with her."

"Aye sir. I'll do my best."

"Good. Now off with you, I got work to do."

Madrid chuckled as the captain waved him off and left the cabin, much more relaxed than when he had entered. The only problem he could see was getting Belle to agree. He cringed.

* * *

Early the next day Arabelle stood with a few others by the railing as Cannoniers Point came into view. Any who had been of Teague's crew some years prior knew what fate awaited them but Arabelle was ignorant of anything but the sharp landscape and what a gloomy place it appeared to be. She was disappointed, she was also chilled by it's welcoming harbor. There was a pleasantly sized bay and harbor that looked quite well off, dotted with dozens of white masts, but surrounding it was sheer rock cliffs dotted with large cannons like she had never seen before. It looked like a page out of a book. Defiantly not like anything she had ever seen before.

"Three round shot. One of those could easily sink a ship our size without problem."

Arabelle turned and faced the captain standing off to her left, his hand resting on the railing and his eyes scouring the coast.

"They're range is nearly twice the distance of any ships' guns and their damage doubled due to their height and size. And with three chambers she a peach to load, under ten seconds between shots."

"Why are there so many here? What is so valuable?"

"As the story is told there was once something very valuable here. An African King built this fortress to protect his vast fortune and his favorite concubine from a rival king."

"What happened?"

"The King was killed and his rival took the throne. The new King died searching for the treasure."

"What happened to the concubine? Was she safe? Did he ever find her?"

Teague took a far away look in his eye and looked at her for the first time.

"Who would look for her here?"

Arabelle smiled.

"What happened to her then?"

"No one knows. Some say she lived out her life, peaceful, very rich. Others say she died from the climate soon after she arrived. Depending on who you ask you get a different version."

"No one knows?"

"Time changes everything." Teague's eyes flashed with mirth. "Even history."

Arabelle looked at him with a mixture of wonder and interest. _That it does captain. That it does._

* * *

They docked without the smallest of problems, which was not surprising considering exactly who was manning the ship. They did do this for a living. Arabelle had smiled at this, they may not be honest men but they were the same as the rest- they were experienced at their trade.

As soon as they were soundly berthed and the watches posted, the monies divided and pay awarded, the company laws were repeated once more by the captain and then he sent the majority of the men off. Arabelle stood at the railing looking out over the town as the men went, whooping and jeering, merrily down the gangplank in search of drink and company.

Arabelle smiled at their childlike spirit and laughed at them, forgetting all promises against them and thinking of how nice it would be to have something, someone to look forward to seeing. Thinking on this she remembered Phoebe and promised to mail a letter to her before they left. She would not be able to get a reply but it warmed her heart to think of someone reading her words, it made her feel a little less alone in the world.

Focusing her eyes once again on the port and the men disappearing into it, she noted it's cool beauty. The trees framing the outskirts and dotting the small common. All building were made of a similar material, a rough pale wood but each building seemed vaguely different. She could spy, just from the closest signs hanging above the doors, a handful of taverns, a blacksmith, a bookshop and a seamstress. Arabelle intending on making good use of the money she had been given as she spied those signs, but the first thing she wanted to do was find a place to clean up. It had been weeks since she had a proper washing and on such a ship she didn't know when she would be privileged to have another. Yes, the first thing she wanted was a bath. Next a new clean dress and after that she needed to find something to protect herself, something she could conceal on her person, something...

With a nudge Madrid appeared at her elbow, grinning broadly Arabelle could tell he was also once who had been one of the ones awarded the first shore leave.

"So you're off?" She smiled, happy to see him lighthearted once more. It had been a very long and dark week for many.

"Aye. I'm off. But no worries I'll be back 'fore too long. I've got watch tonight." he replied glancing up at the rigging and Danny sitting up top at full attention but very much miffed not to be those dancing their way ashore.

"Keep your eye sharp Danny-boy and I'll buy you a pint when you get off!" Madrid called with a smile, receiving a cheeky reply from the lookout. Madrid laughed and turned back to Belle, glowing with all the mirth wafting through the ship.

"You sure I can't come with you now?" she asked, pleading in her way.

Madrid shook his head firmly. "Ney. Not a chance. This port's too dangerous for you now. We'll go out tomorrow with the Captain's consent. It's too close to dusk, far too dangerous. Ney. Stay put, I'll come for you in the morning and then ye'll have all the time you need to buy what you want and look at all this port has to offer."

Belle sighed dejectedly and leaned over the rail looking out over the port and it's milling crowds.

"It looks like fun." she grumbled.

"Aye and it'll be the same in the morning, with less worry. Listen to me luv, stay put. Better yet stay below decks with the lads and wait till morn."

"I want to go now." She replied half-heartedly.

"Well you wont. Shall I lock you in the brig 'fore I leave?"" He raised his brow with a stern look on his face and Belle shook her head. She hated being locked away. "I thought not. Now, be a good lass and don't plant one foot off this deck till I tell you."

Madrid then smiled and nudged her once again. Standing up straight he went for the gangplank and stopped, turned and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Not one foot you hear me."

"Yes mother." Belle smirked.

Madrid jutted out his jaw and shook out his hair with a grin. "I'll be back."

"Sober if you please sir!" she called with a smile.

Madrid just laughed, finally planting his feet on the dock he swayed slightly, threw her one of his dashing smiles and quickly disappeared into the busy docks leaving Arabelle to watch the crowds once more in silence, this time with a smile on her lips.

A hour or two passed before she grew tired of watching the town slowly sink towards dusk and she decided to abandon her post by the railing and drift over the ship and glance around at it's skeletal crew, still working away securing the sails and checking hardware. Everyone wanted to have their freedom now that they had docked and Arabelle didn't blame them. She looked back to shore and sighed. She wished she too could once again feel soil beneath her feet and truly see what was so frightening about this place. She wished morning would come soon so she could explore and take leave of the ship but alas she was denied. Time slowly dragged past.

Belle bit her lip and looked out, nibbling her plump bottom lip a smile crept onto her face. He didn't have to know, besides what could it hurt? Just a quick little look around and then she'd be back. That was all she wanted after all. Just one quick little look.

Promptly Belle went down to the hold and began to search the stores. \she quickly found a trunk of old clothing and borrowed a long navy coat, a pair of boots, and Tricorn. Slipping on the coat and boots, Arabelle braided her hair quickly and pressed the hat onto her head and smiled in herself over once she was pleased with the result.

_Hat's a little loose but it will have to suffice. _

Arabelle then retrieved her small bag of coins from her _chamber_, in the brig, and headed back up to the main deck. Glancing around from the stairs and finding it quite quiet and deserted Arabelle crept lightly to the gangplank and smiled as a shiver of independence ran down her spine.

_Amazing girl. No one saw a thing. Now off to see what's so…_

Quickly she came to an abrupt stop. Her skirts tugged and she turned, expecting to rescue them from a nail, she instead came face to face with the captain, holding in his hand a fist full of her skirts.

Arabelle frowned, blushing fiercely at being caught she gawked for a moment then grabbed quickly at her skirt, trying to wretch it from his hand.

"I would ask you to let go of my skirts if you please."

The captain refused and she tugged at her skirts in vain once more. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere. Let go."

"Don't look like that from where I'm standing luv." Teague tipped back her hat and received a hasty scowl as she swatted his hand away and shoved her hat back on her head.

"Let go of me you-"

"Heading out for a night on the town without your boys?" Teague smirked, mocking her, but quickly grew deadly serious. " I thought I had made it clear you were _not _to leave the ship without the lad."

"I'm not a child!" She stopped her foot and blew out a growl.

"You're actin' like one."

Arabelle swore under her breath and crossed her arms over her chest, glowering at him, still holding her back. It was no use fighting, not like this, he was too strong.

"I was going to meet him." She lied, hoping rather than believing she would rid herself of him.

Teague smirked however. "Sure you were."

"I was!"

"Then you wouldn't mind me accompanying you."

"Wha... why?"

"I too need too find 'im."

Arabelle wished to protest but she was at a loss for words.

"Don't… don't you have work to do?" She fumbled.

"Aye so don't waste my time. Lets go."

Arabelle sighed and lead the way, walking blind into an unfamiliar city. She had no idea where Madrid was but the captain didn't know that. Besides she could always loose him in a crowd or something... or she hoped so.

* * *

Arabelle walked with Teague a step behind her for some time before she, herself, gave up looking for Madrid and stood on one of the street corners looking at yet another rowdy tavern bursting with sailors and seedy merchants. Teague came along side her, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned to one side. Belle frowned and tugged at her coat.

"Well then luv, which way?"

She blew a breath out her nose and shoved her hands in her pockets. She didn't even glance at Teague before she frowned darkly at the patrons eyeing her by the door. She was glad of this coat about her in the cooling night air and with the interested glances she received she was glad it was covering her for those reasons too. No doubt it was not a common thing to find a woman out so late in this part of town, but it made her feel like a rouge as she stood along side this man, pirate that he was, and she didn't like that feeling it gave her.

"I don't know." She grumbled. "...I mean... I don't know where he is."

Teague smiled "Did you ever?"

Arabelle looked at him abruptly then quickly stepped back and averted her eyes as a group of brazen men walked by, behind him, leering at her hungrily. Teague turned and regarded them with little interest but enough malice to keep them moving. Arabelle did not see but when she looked up she was glad to see them gone. Arabelle glanced quickly at him and offered a reluctant smile before she looked away, fearing another burst of his disappointment.

"No." She confessed. "He only said he would return tonight. I just wanted to see... the town."

Reluctantly she looked up and met the captain's eyes, which danced in the flickering dusk above his permanent frown, and held them.

"You lied to me."

Arabelle bit her lip and wracked her brain. "Y…you forced me."

Teague scoffed. "How did I do that?"

"You tricked me. I thought you would just let me go."

"Do you wish I had?"

Belle didn't even have to look around before she mumbled her reply.

"What was that luv?"

"No! Alright? I surely don't wish you had let me come by myself, there are you happy?"

Teague just smirked and tossed back his chin with insolent cockiness. Arabelle groaned.

_Lord this man. Was he ever polite? Civil even? _

"Did you even truly need to speck to him?"

"The lad?"

"Aye."

Ghosting a smile the captain refused to answer but instead looked towards the tavern and raised his chin.

"You wished to see the town?"

She knitted her brow, surprised he would even think of offering such a thing.

She nearly scoffed. "You would show me?"

"No but I'm thirsty and I have a feeling you're going to follow me."

"Are you telling me to?"

"You want to wait out here?" he growled.

"No."

Teague raised a brow and scoffed, tossing his head as a gesture to follow Belle took the hint and fell into step behind him- glad to be spared his frowns and pleased to get what she wanted.

* * *

Arabelle sat in silence, cursing herself for letting herself be talked into such a hotheaded idea as entering such a lowly establishment with the thought of not being meddled with nor stared at. She sat sipping her wine as the captain made his presence in the room felt. For once Arabelle was glad for such an unforgiving and approachable character in an acquaintance for it certainly kept the leering faces and grabbing hands away but it certainly did not quell _her _nerves.

Sitting next to the captain overlooking the rowdy tavern from the atop the stage seat they had quickly swooped upon once they had entered. The captain sat comfortably with mug in hand scanning the crowds with little interest but Arabelle sat rigidly in her seat and sipped her wine eyeing the glass she was given for remnants of dirt.

The captain snorted at this after a time and returned his mug to the table as Arabelle regarded him with distaste. Flicking a dislodged splinter of wood from the course old table he justified his crude noise with a simple question.

"What cha' doing luv?"

Arabelle, growing tired of having to correct him of her name, gritted her teeth and forced one last discontent glance at her glass before placing her hands in her lap.

"Nothing but inspecting the _fine china_." she retorted.

Teague smirked and waved at the serving maid by the bar for a refill. Without waiting for a confirmation he looked to the English lass sitting down from him.

"For dirt or opium?"

"Opium? And why would anyone put opium in my wine?"

Teague rolled his eyes at her naivety and replied plain and simple. "Men like a bonny face, some of which won't hesitate to put out some coin for a bit of opium to better their chances."

"Are you referring to-"

"Aye. Once you drink the laced drink they can come and claim their near incoherent prize for a bit of fun and you'd wake up in an alley or room somewhere never knowing the difference or next to someone depending on who or how it goes."

Arabelle gasped. Although she always thought herself quite rigid as far as females were concerned she had never heard anyone talk in such a way. Her brothers had taught her language, as did Phoebe- _the cheeky Brit_- but no one had ever spoken so crudely about such cruel shocking acts. She was shocked and Teague could see it clearly from her eyes if not her gaping mouth- he knew her ears were still delicate to his world.

"People actually... do _that _here?" She asked, quietly, cautiously eyeing the crowds like they were hungry wolves instead of staggering singing men and giggling women.

"People do that everywhere."

Arabelle frowned and dropped her skittish eyes to her lap, Teague didn't stop her but let the little embarrassing ordeal about life pass as the serving maid had chosen that time to strut up to the table with a tray of overfilled, dripping pints.

"Another pint for yiz me-luv?" she asked quickly with a bright accommodating smile.

Arabelle glanced up as the woman spoke and watched as she leaned across the table, exposing her extremely low cut blouse for the captain's benefit as she retrieved his empty mug but then looked away in disgust. Barely listening to the exchange Arabelle didn't look up until she heard the new mug clunk against the tabletop, and when she did she saw the maid picking her way through the crowds swaying her hips for the benefit of the male company and Teague paying no attention to anything but his newly filled mug.

The captain returned his mug to the table after a good swig and gave a small grunt as he settled into the chair and watched a few musicians make their way to the stage across from them. Quite surprised the captain had not been so keen on the woman's wares like the others Arabelle watched him, now playing with a coin, rolling it over his fingers in a way that made her want to smile. As he did this, oblivious to her watching his nimble fingers at work he watched the musicians, setting up and take one last mouthful of grog before the performance, with indifference.

Arabelle took that opportunity to watch him, in attempts once again to find that man all of his crew seemed to come to admire so much but she herself found difficulty believing. All she found, though, was a handsome rogue sitting in a seedy tavern rolling a coin through his fingers and yellow candlelight flickering across his deeply tanned face. Arabelle blushed and dropped her eyes to the table- angry and ashamed she could find any beauty in such a person with such a vocation.

"Do you plan to stay here long captain?" She asked in attempts to rid such thoughts from her mind.

"Long enough to take in fresh water and supplies."

"And then where are we off to?"

The captain smiled, in his cool sort of way and stilled the coin's dance through his fingers.

"We? _We _shall be sailing down to Ila Amsterdam."

"Ila... but surely you..." Arabelle dropped her words quickly her brow furrowing and her fingers rubbing at the fabric of her skirt- as she did when thinking, _that _and bite her lip.

"Is that a problem luv?" he asked dryly

"No. I've never been there but surely we could hold off of sailing down there for a time... couldn't we?"

Teague frowned. "Why would we want to? The trade routes pass right by that island to and from both England and the Indies."

"Because that is where the _Mary Eliza _was scheduled to dock next." Arabelle replied dryly. Teague quieted and Arabelle continued. "If we go there now it is quite likely we shall run into her, and if we do it is even more likely that action, if not force, will be taken to return me to England, especially in the light that I did not willingly board your ship. I am not a woman of rank, one that of family as to there being some reward for my safe return but I do have friends. Friends that would be more than grateful to risk their life to return mine to safety and society."

Arabelle thought of Laury at this instant, that gentle young man she had befriended and without a doubt in her mind Laury would be one of the main ones to risk their life for the sake of her safety and virtue. From the conversations they had and the murderous glares he sent Mr. Bishop's way she had no doubt about that.

"No doubt that upon seeing the ship, that took not only one of their own but also their entire cargo, they would act quickly and effectively. I do not pretend to know about this place but I have had conversations about it with Captain Thuron aboard the _Mary Eliza _and from what he shared it seems to be a reputable port with a thriving fort. I am sure there would be a selection of full guard divisions stationed throughout the port eager to take down a pirate ship and string up as many of the crew as they could and gain the prize especially upon receiving the news that there is a prisoner on board."

Teague smirked. "Aye but you're not locked up are you?"

"No, but they don't know that. For all they know I'm locked away in the bowels of this ship, wounded, wronged and ravished until near dead."

"You've got quite the imagination."

Arabelle resisted the urge to frown but instead gave him a cold smirk of indifference. "Thanks to the stories and history people like you write.""

"Oh no luv, you landlubbers write those stories about us, people you've never met, rumours as twisted and woven as a basket."

"Surely there is some truth in them."

"Have we maliciously locked you up cruelly, wounded you, wronged you or ravished you beyond repair? I didn't think so. Now, those tales don't seem to be so real after all do they. Sides all your pirates are grimy old men missing limbs, teeth and all sense of laws and dress. My crew, as well as many others hardly fit that description... or are we despicable lawless and moral-less blokes?"

Arabelle sighed, shaking her head. She couldn't dispute that fact. This captain took good care of his men and they lived by laws and regulations like anyone else, the only difference was their way in life was a shadier one by choice... and thus it was much more rewarding than many.

"Very well, you are not... not yet... like the pirates in such novels and journals but I doubt they would wait to find that out. They'd kill you on the spot for sure. We must avoid Ila Amsterdam."

Teague couldn't do anything but flash a smirk at her sincerity.

"You worried about me luv?"

Arabelle smiled and waved him off. "I am worried about the necks of my current protectors. Emphasis on the _plural_."

He smirked and let it pass. "Well then, you've got a point. I'm not one to avoid the Navy but Amsterdam's got a small port and I'd rather not risk the noose as of yet. We avoid Ila Amsterdam for the time being. "

Arabelle nodded. It was a well taken precaution. "Besides I'm not ready, nor willing, to return to England or continue to New Zealand at present."

Teague smirked once more. "You got a taste of freedom have you? Want to try out a life of piracy?"

Arabelle scoffed. "I'll never take part in piracy."

Teague's smirk deepened, with cockiness he looked at her with dangerously alluring eyes. "Keep company with wolves, luv, and you'll soon learn to howl."

Arabelle narrowed her eyes to counter act his look. "I won't if I don't try."

"You'll try alright luv. You can count on it."

Arabelle turned away, frowning but not replying to his statement. Instead she looked over the patrons again, examining their faces she could see safely without arousing interest. She sat in silence for some time before she spoke, this time returning her hand to her glass, feigning nonchalance.

"In your opinion, would I be able to stay safely aboard the _Ash Bough _until I find myself a home elsewhere?"

Teague raised his brow. "That's what we agreed."

"I know. I only want to be sure you will keep your word."

He scoffed and replied, his tone highly full of warning. "I always keep my word."

Arabelle bit her lip, surprised and hushed by his confident reprimand on loyalty. "Why did you suddenly relinquish and let me stay? Women on ships are not usually welcome, besides I can tell I am not wholly liked by the crew."

Teague smirked. She knew about sailors- vaguely at least and she knew or saw how the men reacted- that was good, at least she wasn't stupid. He was glad she was no longer sniveling to be let go and glad of the quiet he began to watch her and think. And now, he was confident he had the perfect plan if not reply.

"Superstitious sailors claim women are bad luck on ships, they also claim it's bad luck to set sail on a Friday for some daft reason so I'm sure they'll get over it. My men are no exception to these nautical superstitions but you're right in assuming not many like you. They don't. Like everything, though, they'll get over it."

"Why don't you act like the others?"

"I'm looking at the bigger picture."

"Bigger picture?"

"Aye. I see past the extra man on my ship and to it's advantages."

"Advantages? I hope your not referring to-"

"Charms of wo-"

"Yes, that." she snapped.

"No."

"Good, because it'll never happen."

Teague smirked and let it pass. He for one was not interested in anything she had to offer, he had more important things to do. Women were meant for port, not ships. Besides, his men had rules that they would obey, they wouldn't bother her in the least. She was perfectly safe under his command, she just needed to realize that and listen to him. It would prove to be of advantage... if only she'd listen.

* * *

: I'm back after a while. Please drop a line mates. Thanks all! I love what's on the way!


	29. Plans

Contrary to what she had thought when passed with the question of acquiring passage on a vessel captained and crewed by the finest of thieves on the sea, Arabelle felt quite at home in the following few days. Her lessons with Madrid continued until she was sure footed and light in the rigging and her skill at the right hand of Mr. Hardy improved greatly each day, rendering her cooking and baking somewhat legendary.

As the captain had said as she slowly became more comfortable to her surroundings the men, thus, became more used to her. Of course they were still mindful of the captain's orders concerning her but they no longer always grumbled about her or pointedly avoided any contact with her. Still, the most comfortable around her were the ships' youth but each day brought her closer to being accepted and even closer to feeling content.

One perfect afternoon with a good stiff following breeze Belle wandered out towards the bow, tired and hot from kitchen work, to feel the cool spray of the ocean on her face. She wished he had enough gull, like Madrid, to leap over the railing and drop down into the netting hanging from the bow but she lacked the courage he had been so luckily bestowed with and stayed where she was. She had to content herself with standing at the very front of the bow as she could get from the deck, but she was content with her place, there she could feel the spray without being soaked.

Arabelle liked to come here and think, it was quiet, not visited much and she was out of the way- which she liked and the captain insisted. She had to amid though, here alone without interruption or jesting, that the captain wasn't all that bad. He certainly lacked a great degree of characteristics that would make someone tolerable and even amiable but he wasn't turning out to be at all like she had presumed him to be. Belle felt she aught to be surprised at her thoughts being such but she couldn't bring herself to declare them, she had been thinking about this change for some time and during such a length of time she had lost her shock. She didn't think she aught to concern herself or dwell of such a change she was seeing but she couldn't help it, that was the only thing that alarmed her. No longer did she care if she caught herself watching him, searching for the loss of his alarming nature she had found so crude weeks earlier. No longer did he frighten her, no longer did her worries cause her to feel panic. Perhaps it was the fact that she was slowly feeling herself fall into the way of life here, the reason she did not know but it was comforting.

"Miss Sparrow!"

Arabelle turned to see Raul, a young midshipman of sorts, coming towards her from across the deck. Belle left the railing where she stood and walked towards him, meeting him by the main mast.

"Captain wants to see you." he concluded.

Belle nodded.

Very well. She had been expecting as much in the past few days. She hadn't seen the captain very much since they left Cannoniers Point and with the amount of traffic his door had seen she knew something was afoot. That and Madrid had stepped up his teaching, commissioning one Mr. Johnson to teach her the ways and architecture of the ship and many other ships. Belle enjoyed the lesson very much. She had always hated the decorum classes Miss Houston taught back at the school and this was a welcomed change but she soon began to wonder what ever was this for if she was only to be a temporary member of the crew.

"Then we shant keep him waiting." she replied with a smile.

Raul gave a sharp nod and turned, leading her to the cabin.

In her short experience with the young man he proved to be yet another fiercely loyal member of the crew, regarding the captain with the utmost solemn admiration and excellent service. Raul Delaney, from Belle's observance, was a comely young Irishman with auburn locks and forest green eyes. His eyes were sharp to anything out of the ordinary and his hands were quick to carry out orders. From what she had seen he was a very respected member of the crew and despite his youth- which she pegged to be in the mid twenties- the captain valued his opinion. It was however, Mr. Marshal who was seen working with him mainly and not the captain.

Arabelle followed the young man to the captain's cabin where, upon entering, found she was not the only one bidden to this meeting. Mr. Marshal, Raul, Madrid, Hudson and Avery waited within. Upon regarding their waiting forms around the large table, Belle grew anxious suddenly.

_What was going on?_

She looked up to the captain, standing at the head of the table looking out over the sea and grasped her shaking fingers.

_Was this it? Was this the end? Is this how it would begin, meeting with the captain and those in the highest positions aboard the ship? Would she wake up bound in the brig dressed in tatters? Would she be forced to walk the plank or bend to their wishes?_

Arabelle didn't know, she didn't understand any of this so far but when the captain turned and looked her over without even batting an eyelash she knew the end was near. This wouldn't end well.

Mr. Marshal stood and cleared his throat as the captain took his seat.

"Let's get this over with shall we? You've all be called 'ere to discuss the plan for the following weeks. We will be enterin' the shipping lanes to and from England and the captain will need our, as ranking men, cooperation for what is to come."

Raul shifted in his seat, motioned to speak and a nod from Teague permitted him. Arabelle watched the exchange intently, wondering why more than worrying now, why she was included in this.

"Beggin' your pardon captain but I don't see the need in callin' such a discussion when you've always captained us in takin' prizes. We've always obeyed your orders, no matter if we know the plans or not. Why ask us to obey now when we're sure to obey yeh all the time?"

With a motion from the captain Madrid stood and filled seven glasses of wine, one for each of the men and Belle, as Teague took a look at his men and spoke.

"Now the planning is bigger than me'self lads. For what I have in mind, it won't work unless we're all in on it from the start. And I assure you, the extra effort will be worth your while."

"Why am I here? What have I got to do with anything?" Belle inquired suddenly, receiving her glass of wine and six surprised glances for her outburst.

Teague eyes narrowed as he lifted his glass, to salute her. "Why you've got everything to do with it luv."

Arabelle furrowed her brow but besides that shallow smirk from the captain she received no explanation… yet.

"Marshal."

"We're to scout prizes as we normally do. Madrid. But we're lookin' for merchants… fat merchants with their flags billowing and their hold's low."

"Got it." Madrid nodded.

"We're lookin' for easy targets, lone merchants too fat to run and too comfortable to fight. We've got all the flags we need so country don't matter. We can appeal to any of the blokes, but we need a lone ship every time."

Hudson nodded.

"Next comes our prize. This is where our l'il 'passenger' comes in handy." Gabriel smirked and looked down the table to Arabelle, who sat speechless as he continued. "You… Miss… will remain on deck, in plain sight, to the other ship as we approach and will play the part we have decided for you. Being either sister, daughter, or wife would be most effective, but each time will be different to avoid raising suspicion. The day we are to take the prize you will be told your part and you will play it with the best of your ability."

"But-"

"No. Questions aft. This strategy will require that we put on a appealing welcome and invite ourselves over to the merchant vessel. A small party will board the unsuspecting ship and we will take it from within. A signal from the party, one single shot, will be issued and the remaining crew will board the merchant, take the ship, bind the crew and load the swag. Clear gents?"

"I-" Arabelle began to protest but a wave of inquiries from the men about the table quickly silenced her.

"If the signal is not issued within, what then?" Hudson inquired levelly.

"If problems arise? Surely I'd be a fool's errand to play games when the odds aren't in our favour." Avery explained gripping the neck of his goblet in his strong hand. "With the captain and first mate aboard the other ship we'd have little chance for making mistakes. Who knows what could be happening over there or what we would encounter lest we try and take 'em back."

"What if the tricks on us? What if she knows we ain't true and she ain't either?" Raul ventured slowly. "The men 'eard rumours of the Navy popping up in these trade routes this time o' year when we docked Captain. Are you sure 'is safe?"

The captain ghosted a smirk and gave a shallow nod, reaching for his glass he picking it up and held it as he sat back and looked over his men… and lady present. His eyes passed over each face, holding momentarily noting doubt or uncertainty in each before moving to the next, around the table until he came to one face that did not hold any doubt.

Teague's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened as his chin raised.

"You show now fear as the others do lad, why is that?"

"Should I sir?"

"Your crewmen and officers have laid before us the truth of this new voyage, this new undertaking of ours, there _will_ be danger. Nothing in this venture is certain. And if we come through it, we will come through it rich men or dead men." Teague squinted, smirking at him, and waited. "You have you say to that?"

Madrid grinned, looking at the captain steadily, and replied as steadily "I'd much rather be a rich man than a dead one if we do have any choice in the matter."

Avery and Hudson sputtered a chuckle, congratulating their friend on such cheek, while Raul managed to retain his and simply remain apart. Both the captain and Mr. Marshal offered little but nods of conformity and a smirk but Arabelle watched helplessly from the sidelines. She was stunned once again by the carefree attitude about, not only death, but battle, it's strategy and general life. She for one had not yet been able to live her life, she resented any who chose to waste theirs when she was not able to enjoy hers. Arabelle looked at the men around her and saw nothing but boys, rowdy, undisciplined, selfish boys. She had enough of this meeting, her voice was not respected here and she would stay no longer.

Abruptly thrusting her chair out from under her Arabelle stood and pushed the chair away. Raul stood as she did however and quickly turned to the captain but Arabelle paid no heed. She didn't care if they tried to stop her, they wouldn't, they didn't care. She made her way around the table.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Arabelle gutted out her jaw and kept walking. They would ignore her, she would ignore them… or him. It was fair. She thought so.

Quickly the voices dropped off from within the cabin but Arabelle didn't concern herself with any of that anymore she headed directly for the door and didn't deviate.

"McGee, Tom."

Two men, rough and intimidating, stepped out of the shadows blocking the door directly before Arabelle, nearly knocking her down and truly scaring the life out of her she had no time to think as they each grabbed and arm and turned her around.

"Aye sir." They both muttered in unison and dragged her back to the large table and men sitting silently therewith.

When Arabelle was finally able to gulp a breath down when she was sure they weren't going to crush her she quickly glanced at the giants that had dragged her here. The two men, one McGee and Tom, probably the captain's bodyguards, were retreating to their posts so she didn't get a good look at them but she vaguely recollected them softly muttering an apology as they dragged her through the shadows and that was something she would have to remember for future use. As for the others she did not look up but from the utter silence and tension wafting through the room she knew that all eyes were trained on her and her alone and she doubted it was with a friendly eye but she did not care. Other that them killing her, or hurting her… or them tarnishing her honour she didn't care at the moment. Besides she felt that the captain was going to yell at her and nothing was going to prevent him.

Arabelle didn't know how long the silence lasted but finally he broke it and when he did she heard that same tight, cold tone in his voice as the same time she had first seen him which sent shivers up her spine.

"Out… all of you."

"But Captain..."

"All of you."

Marshal shook his head refusing Madrid even the smallest of sympathy at this moment. Madrid turned to Arabelle and took her arm, turning her, he headed for the door before Marshal could speak.

"She stays."

"But you said-"

Teague didn't speak but simply the sound of a sharp intake a breath made Arabelle remove Madrid's hand from her arm. She gave him a weak smile and patted his hand. Glancing over her shoulder she looked at the captain, with his back to them, and Mr. Marshal quickly clearing everything from the table. The others had already gone.

"Belle-"

Arabelle shook her head. "Just go. He won't hurt me."

Madrid hesitated only a moment more before, with a heavy sigh and a glance behind him he turned and left as well with Mr. Marshal close at his heels.

Arabelle waited for the door to clasp before she uttered a reluctant sigh, when she did she clasped her hands before her and hooded her eyes.

"Alright. Now that you have my attention and I have yours what can I do for you?"

Teague turned, abruptly, and glowered at her with severity.

"Would you care to, now, include me in grand these plans and schemes of yours?"

The captain turned and growled, grumbling harsh remarks as to her brazen, petty jests at his competence and that of the plan he wished to carry out.

Arabelle's lips curled into a false smile as she rolled on her heels, enduring his curses with calm civility, - a little more so than she had her teachers countless times before- but as he had on occasion endured hers with much amusement if not diligence… thus far at least. She remained silent for the time being. But finally he took a pause between his curses and reluctantly, gently, placed a hand on the table.

"Listen. Here. Sweetheart. I'll have you learn to hold your tongue when you speck, as women ought, or I'll cut it out. But needless to say if you ever disobey my orders-"

"Disobey your orders! I came here didn't I?"

"Don't interrupt me we-!"

"I'll do whatever I like when I am ignored _Captain!_" She snapped haughtily. "Why did you ask me here anyway? You call me here, interrupt my peaceful day, drag me in here, dump all of this duty and danger speech on me and then when I have questions, refuse to answer but oblige your men. I don't understand. You say I am to be the most important part of this plan yet you deny me any say in the matter, you silence my voice? What have you say to that?"

Arabelle, working herself into a fine loathing lather glowered at the captain with disgust, only to find his black eyes smiling at her and his lips smirking- not in mockery but in amusement which is shocking but all the more maddening. A long moment of silence lapsed, causing Belle to work up another outburst and further her point with a good slue of New Zealand's choicest curses when his lips parted.

"I think, you'll do better than I thought."

* * *

Arabelle raised her brow, arching it doubtfully. Her mouth agape she looked up from the parchment in her hand and across the table, past the towering candles.

"You're crazy."

"It'll work." Teague replied confidently, lowering his chin but looking straight, determined… very determined of himself.

Arabelle took a breath and bit her lip looking down at the papers and plans Mr. Fennel, Teague's Steward, had written out under the captains order concerning all facets of the intended _play_ they intended to perform. Arabelle both considered and regarded it as a play for two reasons, one, it starred her and two, it helped calm her swelling anxiety of impending danger. A danger she had read about but never expected to live.

Arabelle looked up at the pirate once more, this time with disappointment in her eye.

"Did you dictate these words?" She asked picking up one of the loose sheets and sliding it across the table, spraying filters of ash and herb trimmings onto his lap.

Teague frowned and, first dusting off his waistcoat, he placed his hand on the paper and slid it back before her.

"I know what it says. Let me ask you this in reply, what right minded captain would let one of his crewmen take a women on board and deny himself the pleasure?"

Belle frowned. _Yes_, as much as she had to protest, _that wouldn't wash_. Not if they were trying to win the heart and coin of the merchant vessel they chose to board, it would seem very strange indeed.

"Besides it's not like we're sharing a bed." Teague pointed out cockily, although he despised the idea as much as she. She knew that for certain.

"It's the principle." Belle sighed with a frown. "They will assume. They will call me your wife and I will be made to play along."

"You rather my mistress?"

Arabelle glowered.

Teague smirked and picked up his pipe, lighted it and sat back as well. "Enough. Let me be plain. This, if it is carried out well, will not a singular affair. And although both of us shall despise it so we are both inclined to lend ourselves entirely to this venture. Just go alone and it'll soon be over. Each time, as I have explained, _at length_, this strategy will be carried out in a different way. You shall be daughter, sister-"

"Aren't you a little young to be my father?" Arabelle asked, raising her brow defiantly.

Teague let out a puff of smoke and reached for his glass. "Don't try to flatter me pidge. In those instances I will not be the one in question. Another will be chosen."

"Who?"

Teague looked at her darkly and continued. "As I was saying. You will be daughter, sister, cousin, niece, wife… _mistress_… and you will act as I choose with no questions asked. You-"

"That sounds an awful lot like being a prisoner." Arabelle remarked levelly.

Teague tilted his head and frowned, placing the pipe between his lips. "You will receive a share of the prize money and-"

"How large a sum?"

Teague took the pipe from his mouth and pointed it at her. "You, _sweetheart_, will get what I give you and you will appreciate it."

Arabelle pursed her lips and looked down at the papers before her again. ""Very well."

"Good. I knew you'd come 'round to my side of things luv."

Arabelle cut her eyes to Teague across the table, and would have been glad to see that smile on his hard face once again but sadly she was not in the rejoicing mood.

"Have you read the actions we are to take once aboard?"

"Yes."

"Do you-"

"Do you understand the odds of pulling something like this off?""

Teague raised his brow and took the pipe from his mouth. "I assume you are now going to enlighten me."

Arabelle frowned and sat back, hard against the chair. "No. I will not."

"Good."

"You're mad if you think you'll get even close to coming off with anything!" She exclaimed jumping forward waving her hands in his direction. Teague rolled his eyes and sat back, returning the pipe to his mouth he stood. "Wh… where are you going now?"

"I'm getting a drink and since you didn't drink anything when I offered it earlier I assume you don't want anything either, good."

Without waiting for a reply he turned and sauntered across the room to his cabinet especially for his own special liquor and selected a bottle, shut the door and returned to the table. Once seated, he uncorked the bottle, poured himself a glass and took a drink. Satisfied he turned back to Arabelle and narrowed his eyes with a smile. Arabelle returned the smile and riffled through the papers straightening them.

"I shall take a glass of wine, thank you. From that cabinet there I don't doubt you carry choicest spirits so I shall a good vintage shall I?"

Teague slowly lost his smile and Arabelle's brightened. Quite miffed she would even try this little stunt he stared at her but did little to grant her wish. He did, however, see she took great pleasure in his irritating and smirked. This to his advantage thus making her lose hers.

"We make a good game of this don't we?" He grinned, this time without mockery.

Arabelle wished to frown and denounce him but she could not deny the rare sincerity in his voice and playfulness about his mouth and eyes. Surly he was a roughen and a scoundrel but he did have a great mind and as much as Arabelle had despised the man, she admired the mind and she was she was coming to admire the man and the humour, the life around it.

She didn't know him long but just from watching him she could tell there was something more to him than what she saw. He had such strength, such raw power. As much as he infuriated her he seemed to draw her as well. She could not deny it but this entire evening they had spent together, despite the daunting details and monotonous planning, she had enjoyed all of it. The conversation _and_ the banter. She was beginning, very slowly to see just who this man was and why the men like Madrid admired him so. That… and those words from the journal weeks ago she had read had been plaguing her and she was curious……very curious.

"Yes. I confess we do. When we seem to have the right mind to." She gave him a smile and looked around the room.

She was tired of the hours of reading about her duties when the time came to run the plan and she was tired of him badgering her with rules about how she is to act and that she is to do all he is to say and do.

"You have a very impressive collection of books and trinkets."

Teague glanced around the cabin as if he hadn't noticed and picked up his glass. "Aye."

"It must have taken you years to collect such a collection. Where did you find such things?" Belle moved from her chair and delicately fingered a small oriental tapestry hanging in the nearest corner.

"You pick them up here and there. If you're careful it doesn't take very long at all."

Belle smiled over her shoulder and moved onto the bookshelf she had quickly looked through weeks ago.

"I would have never thought a captain would have much time to read, nor take much pleasure in it."

Teague let out a puff of smoke. "Why not?"

She picked up Robinson Crusoe and raised an inquisitive brow. "You're an adventurer, a pirate, an explorer. Don't books like this seem a little dull?"

Teague smirked and cocked his head to the side, removing the pipe from his mouth. "Depends. When I was young, reading that book taught me many things. Things that, without I would have never became the man I am today. So tell me, too dull?"

Belle smiled. "No, I suppose not. Valuable. Have all your crewmen read it? If not perhaps they should."

Teague scoffed. "I don't think so luv."

Belle replaced the book on the shelf and returned to the table but did not sit, she lingered by it's side and watched him lazily puff at his pipe and shift through the papers before she smiled, and frowned as she caught herself do it so easily. Angry she turned and sauntered to the window. Although it was pitch black she looked out over the black waves, hazy moon peeking out from the clouds, and was thankful for her present state, although unpredictable and dangerous.

"What's going to happen tomorrow?"

"Drills."

"For what? This?" She asked motioning to the papers before him.

"Aye. I want the men ready."

"But they already know how to fight."

"Aye but for the plan to run smoothly it needs to be run until it goes like clockwork. That means you to. Make sure you're on deck, dressed in that rig that was bought especially for this, at seven sharp. You''re excused from work with Mr. Hardy for the present."

"Starting when? Tomorrow? And what clothes, I never bought any clothes other than… wait a minute. Did… did you put Madrid up to this? That day at Cannonier's Point, when he talked me into going into those dress shops… you…" Arabelle didn't know if she should laugh or frown. "But I didn't try any on. How do you expect any to fit properly?"

"Oh he enlisted some help, someone quite similar to you in shape and form. Besides I don't think it would be much problem for you to do some alterations if needed."

Belle shook her head, holding in a betrayed frown.

"So where are these garments now? I'd much rather look at them now if you don't mind and see what exactly I'll be forced to wear, so I might have time to alter them before I'm forced to wear them."

"They are in the care of Mr. Fennel. As are all the other garments.""

"Other?"

"Aye. As you know you're not the only one donning a disguise."

"One of the lad's wearing a dress too?"

Teague scoffed and shook his head, blowing out a puff of smoke as he did. "Ney, this isn't dress up luv."

"You never know it may work." Belle crossed her arms over her chest.

"Men in dresses, pretending to be women?" Teague scoffed. "Aye, sure luv."

Belle shrugged.

"By the way how do you expect to take the entire ship from within exactly? Are you going to just kill the captain and hope for a surrender?"

"If we do it right we won't have to. In a basic confrontation it's a firefight, an exchange of shot only. Whoever makes the most damage takes the prize, or who ever strikes their colours first is the prize. Savvy?"

"The other captain just gives up?"

"Or dies fighting."

Belle nibbled her lip contemplating this.

Teague stood, bottle in hand, and walked to his desk. Placing the bottle upon it and riffling through a few papers there he moved towards the chair.

"Now if that's all I have lots of work to do, I trust you can take yourself out and give me some quiet."

Belle shook her head. "Aye."

"Be sure you're on deck at seven."

"Sharp. Aye captain."

Teague looked up from the desk to catch a testy smile and quick knuckle-to-the-brow. He scoffed as she turned and left and went back to his work, undisturbed once again but quite occupied with other things besides the prize.


	30. Responsibility

: Back to dear ol' Jack.

* * *

Teague looked up from his drink and lowering his feet from the stool he gave a little groan his old age enabled him without ceremony.

"Don't you have a ship to run boy?"

With a self-assured smirk Jack picked up the bottle between then, waved it in the air and gave his dear, crusty old father a wink.

" 'ol Gibbs can take care of 'er for the night. No worries da."

"I can see you don't." Teague scoffed. "Tell me boy, does the man even know _where_ you are? Or _if_ you'll be back?"

"Well…"

Teague looked straight, boring into his son with his unforgiving gaze with unspoken disappointment. Jack shifted in his seat, heaved a great sigh and rested the bottle on his knee.

"I'm the captain, I don't have to tell 'im where I'm going or what I'm doin'."

Teague didn't say a word.

"Right? I mean…" Screwing up his face, Jack rolled the bottle around his knee and looked down abashed.

His father. He always had that keen sense of seeing his faults and calling him out on everything and he hated it.

"Come on da." he whined.

"You'd take care to run your ship better Jackie." Teague warned. "It's been proven to you already. Learn dammit."

Jack rolled his eyes, licked his tooth and looked across the room. _Old dad was on it again._

"Can't we just forget me and just continue with the story? Or are you now going to list my flaws?… _again_."

Teague smirked. "Save your cheek for your women."

Jack smirked.

"No. I won't continue the story tonight. My voice is tired and I'm worn out, speaking of these things.""

"But you will finish the story?"

Teague smirked at his avid interest and pulling his pipe from his jacket he tapped it against the arm of the chair and slipped it between his lips.

"Come back tomorrow. I've got business early but I'll be here later."

Jack's jaw felt slightly. "You're kicking me out?… not again da."

Teague lit the pipe, taking a deep slow drawl, inhaling and closing his eyes in rapture he let out a breath of smoke and then a low chuckle.

"I never threw you out Jackie, you did that yourself."

Jack stood, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Whatever da."

"Mind you go back to your ship Jackie."

"Oh I will." he grinned, smoothing his waistcoat, turning and grabbing his coat off the back of the chair.

"Straight off Jackie. You're the captain. You've got duties. You carry them out." Teague let out another puff of smoke and set his eyes on his son, as he met his own. "You never sailed with me. Things would be different now if you had, mark my words, but you listen to me now. That ship is yours, by right, she's yours. You better act like it boy. She and all you let on board are your responsibility. I know you're a wise seaman but you're less than a captain."

Jack picked up his hat and looked at it, old and weathered in his rough hands. It was harsh, it was blunt but he nodded. His father was like this. His father was like running your hand against the grain on an old board. It was his way. There was no other with Teague, not now.

As always Jack's lips twitched into a smirk. He raised his chin and looked up, meeting the eyes of his father, who sat waiting- puffing on his pipe, waiting and watching.

"I'll be back tomorrow da." he said putting on his hat and turning for the door. "Rest easy."

Teague didn't say a word, he just looked into the fire and smoked away on his pipe, narrowing his eyes as his thoughts took him to far off places and into the arms of one hazel eyed woman.

* * *

A heavy mist shrouded the docks as he stepped onto the pier. With the huge ships creaking and the gentle waves lapping, the rigging and canvas snapped in the gentle breeze. The murmur of voices, of the men working along the docks, rose through the air like songs upon the air as Jack through the mist- he felt at home being here once again. He had grown up here. This had been the home of his youth before he had been press jagged into the Navy, well before he had run off to Mananara after Ivy's death with Lewis and Sammy and then gotten press jagged, and he had enjoyed living here.

Jack looked up, down the pier, to where the _Black Pearl _lie berthed and in spite himself breathed a sigh of relief when her figurehead came into view beyond the _Rampant_'s own. Returning the spring to his step and swallowing hard, Jack wiped his face with his thin hand and lifted his chin. He could do this.

"Captain!"

Gibbs trudged down from the sparr deck- breathing heavy- as Jack crossed the deck from the gang plank and yelled orders at another sailor close by with ferocity, a sailor Jack swore he had never seen before in his life let alone on his ship.

"Captain on deck!" Gibbs bellowed and all hands fell to. Jack didn't even stop, he just waved them off and motioned for Gibbs as he continued on his way. Mr. Gibbs quickly fell to beside him as always and didn't waste any time.

"Captain. I didn't s'pect to see ye so soon, I-"

"Who the was that?"

"Where?"

"You were yelling at back there?"

Gibbs frowned, furrowing his brow in deep thought. "The crew?""

Jack rolled his eyes and stepped down the hatchway, down to the hold. Gibbs hesitated. He knew where they were going. He heaved a sigh and followed.

"Oh you mean Yates. Seaman. Rated able. Picked 'im up on the coast of St. Dominique. You remember… don''t you?"

Jack turned, thought for a moment, raised his hand, smiled then frowned and shook his head.

"Nope. Sorry mate. Can't say that I do."

Jack turned and continued on his journey as Gibbs sighed and once again fell to behind.

"What happened to you?" he asked a moment later as they descended the last staircase. "Where'd you run off to?"

Jack's eyes widened on the last step at that question. Gibbs never was one to hit on a soft spot but this time he actually had something. He knew Teague lived here but whether he knew Jack would go and visit him or not, that was a different story. No one know anything about their family. No one at all.

"You run into an old wench you used to know or somethin'? I thought you'd be out at some tavern all night or somthin'. You were talkin' about Rosalyn a while back. She boot you out? Or did you…" Gibbs trailed off and Jack took in a sharp breath. He didn't turn, he didn't have to. "You did didn't you?"

Jack's shoulder's sagged. Not much but enough for Gibbs to sigh and walk a few paces away, to his right into the hold, look around and lean against a beam.

"What'd he say Jack?"

Jack raised his chin and looked to his old friend. "Who says I went to see 'im."

"Jack you spent near the entire voyage pacing the sparr deck. And when you weren't you were pacing in your cabin. Then you disappear and come back the next day without a bottle and without a girl commanding the crew like…I never saw you so…" Gibbs clenched his fists and heaved a sigh. "So you did then. What he say?"

Jack didn't say a word, he just lifted the ring of keys from the beam next to him and carried it to the door, yanked it opened and disappeared behind it. Gibbs didn't move. He thought better of it. He knew Jack dragged him down here all the time because he was secretly afraid of being found in the rum locker again by one of Davy Jones minions- it was an impossible fear of course since Davy was dead but it was Jack, he was complicated- but he didn't move. Jack immerged a few minutes later with three bottles of rum.

"Three?" Gibbs asked

Jack locked the door and returned the keys to the beam, which was actually a pretty stupid place to put them, so close to the door they opened-hiding away all the rum but what the heck.

"One for you, mate, two for me." Jack gave Gibbs a smirk and handed off one of the bottles.

Gibbs met the man's eyes and held them. This man, Gibbs thought, he knew him so well and yet didn't know a thing about him. Gibbs actually considered himself the only one on this earth who knew Captain Jack Sparrow best of all but… truly only he knew him on song and legend. True he was his first mate, friend and drinking mate, he did know a great deal about him and more but there was a great deal he did not know. Gibbs wondered if he would ever know… or if anyone would for that matter.

It had been twenty years now, Gibbs had known Jack, well thirty actually but when your snot nosed cousin introduces you to another barefooted scamp friend you think nothing of it. Yes that was a long time ago, long before Gibbs had any dreams of beggin' off the navy and long before he was the man he was today. It was a different world then.

Gibbs thought of what had happened since as he looked at the man before him, his friend and captain, a man fifteen years his junior and yet look what he had done with his life. He was captain. He had been all around the world again. He had been hung, yes, but he had lived! He was famous everywhere, infamous even, for if not that but so many other things he knew all the stories for. But as Gibbs looked in his friend's dark eyes he knew they were troubled although there was a smirk about his lips.

Gibbs grasped his bottle securely in his hand and nodded to the stairway. If there was one thing he knew about Jack… it was he didn't like talking about anything he didn't want to. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Jack immerged from his cabin the next day tired but feeling considerably lighter than he had ever expected. He had spent a good deal of the night and bottle talking with his friend about his visit with his father and actually felt rather good about his retuning visit he was to make this morning.

Jack pulled his coat around him as the door closed behind him and he looked up at the sky, to the thick dark clouds rumbling there. Narrowing his eyes at them he sniffed the air, it was heavy with dampness and although the sea and bay were gently lapping he knew something was coming. Cocking an ear to the men atop the rigging he heard nothing out of the ordinary, they were working away solitarily, singing as they worked.

Jack knew he should be off but he turned up the stairway instead.

"Oi, you there. Helmsman, what's you're name?"

"Bythe sir. John Bythe."

Jack turned to the bow and pointed to the sky. "See those clouds?"

"Aye sir. Looks like rain. Shall I have the men check all portholes and tack?"

Jack scoffed to himself. "Looks like rain."

Jack regarded the clouds again and felt a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

_Was this what da was talking about? What would _he_ do? I would normally just say 'Sure, do it, whatever.' …but…_

"Captain?"

"Have the men check all the canvas and lines too, if the storm rages I want them to hold. Relay to Mr. Gibbs, should the storm hit, shore leave is cancelled. It will be reinstated once the storm has passed. Take your orders from Gibbs if I don't return." Jack squared the helmsman in his gaze and narrowed his eyes to carry the gravity of his next words. ""I want the _Pearl's_ berth save and secure Mr. Bythe and I will hold you responsible if I don't find her so when I return. Savvy?"

John Bythe looked purely astonished at this order but the stern look from his captain quickly made him lose this and prompted his affirmative answer and nod.

"Good. Watch those clouds man and alert Mr. Gibbs as soon as anything changes."

"Aye sir."

Jack turned and left the deck, but not before casting a wary glance over his shoulder at the helmsman. He sure hoped he knew what he was doing, this was the _Pearl_ he in charge of. It was not like any other ship. Of course he seemed to take Jack's orders to hart but Jack felt wary. He didn't feel right leaving now. He was leaving his beloved _Pearl_ behind in an impending storm.

Slowly Jack made his way down the steps, each laborious step growing heavier as he took the next. He left the ship, once again casting a glance over his shoulder to the helmsman, now barking out orders- his orders. He looked then past the man to the bow, and beyond to the clouds gathering at the mouth of the bay. Gathering his breath Jack made his way down the pier, his steps lagging and his thoughts weighed down with this impending weather.

The walk down the long pier was short this morning with his thoughts occupied but Jack kept his eyes sharp. He watched, very carefully, the ships and men on them making way and watching the clouds. He never had much use for taking advice from others but since his father had said he wasn't much use of a captain Jack found himself watching the better of ships and wonder about them. Those in which he could identify the captain's aboard, on decks, he stopped and watched. Watched them with their men. He could do that. He could.

Then, suddenly the wind died all together. Jack immediately lifted his eyes to the skies and about-faced, briskly, with his eyes skyward, he headed homeward. No sooner had he leapt back onto the gangplank did the wind return. This time, with nearly the ferocity of a full force gale wind, causing all the sails on the ships to be snapped full instantly and ripping flags across flag polls.

Jack leaned against the wind and gripped the rail.

"All hands! Make ready to cast off!" he yelled to no one in particular. Any man close enough to hear against the screaming winds actually, they would pass it along. Jack then moved to the sparr deck and to Bythe's side.

"Bythe. Where be Gibbs?"

"Haven't' seen 'im yet sir!" Bythe called back.

"You haven't gone to get him yet?"

"I couldn't leave the helm sir!"

Jack cast a look over the men mulling about the deck. They were nearly ready, nearly ready to cast off.

"Go find him!" Jack yelled. "Bring him. We're casting off."

"In this storm? That's-"

"It's safer. Drop anchor in the bay and move with the waves! Go!"

Bythe managed a nod before he handed the helm over to Jack's caring hands and the was off, struggling against the wind to carry out his orders. Immediately Jack felt his worry rush away as the Pearl was under his own hands.

Just then she lurched from the pier and his grip tightened around the helm. The pull was stronger than he had expected for the size of the wave but no matter they would ride them out. Jack yelled to his men and looked over the bay. Spotting a large clear break he held a moment. He didn't want to steer into dangerous waters but there were no markers, there were other ships further and closer from that position.

_It should be fine_.

Jack gripped the helm and turned.

"Captain!"

Mr. Gibbs took that time to appear, coming up the stairway pushing hard against the gale and squinting the wind out of his eyes. He arrived at Jack's side quickly but not quickly enough it would seem for as he looked around he found there to be no more pier and only bay around them.

"Captain what's happened? Where did-"

"Storm, came out of no where. We're going to drop anchor and ride her out in the bay. It's safer than trying to ride it out tied to a pier."

"But-"

"Are you questioning an order?" Jack asked with anger in his voice as he yelled it above the wind more then simply an increase of volume. Mr. Gibbs took a step back, chasten. Jack never spoke to him with anger.

"Now go assemble a few of the men, they can't hear me worth a damn from here and we're going to drop anchor there."

Jack turned and looked over the sails again, quickly scanning each one, taunt and full before he dropping his eyes to Mr. Gibbs again.

"What? That's it. Go."

"Aye sir."

In less than an hour the full force of the storm hit and in little over five it was over, but by the time the rains didn't feel like bullets hitting their faces the men didn't care if they returned to port by nightfall, they only wished for something hot to drink and a hammock to lay in. And as they, the men, were relieved from their stations, they cast their eyes to the sparr deck, and despite their dieing wish to dive below decks and warm themselves with a fire and stout drink they forced an almost disbelieving but proud smile upon their faces. The captain still stood at his post, still stood at the helm, drenched and shivering under the black sky and pouring rain, tossed unsteady with the movement of the ship but firmly planted in his place determined to remain unmoved until the danger had passed.

Those that did not notice nudged their crewmates until they had all seen, and as they passed under his watchful eye below decks they murmured amongst themselves about him standing there through the entire day, not moving a muscle except to utter an order, advise them, caution them. There had not been one casualty and the storm was stilling. It had been a fierce one. A hellish storm. They had watched ships tied at the pier wrecked against it. They had watched as the _Fearra_, the Galleon moored across from where they had docked, was wrecked. Run directly through the pier and into the other side, right where they had been… _would have been _naught the Captain ordered them moved.

Now the men, all the men owed their life to Jack Sparrow this day and they would not soon forget it. He had surprised them. Something had driven him to make that decision, and then to stand there throughout the entire thing and it was of no particular gain to himself. Normal captain's would hide it out in their cabin. No, something was different with him. And the men respected this change greatly.

Jack lifted his eyes to the sky and regarded the clouds, turning his head he could see the intense darkness had traveled inland and only soft grey wisps of clouds remained over the sea. The rain would soon abate and with it the wind. How long he did not know. His legs ached from holding himself against the wind and his arms tired of holding the helm steady but he remained where he was and did not move. He knew if he began to fidget it would only make it worse.

_I hope you're happy da. Does this make me a better captain? My arms hurt like hell and bugger does my a-_

Suddenly the wind shifted, turning to a gentler breeze and dropping off, and then growing lighter by the second the rain suddenly stopped as well. Jack looked up at the sky, and, as if the Gods had divined it, blue sky appeared. The men cheered and Jack felt like dropping to his knees right then out of sheer delight and exhaustion.

"You there. Rouse Master Gibbs!"

"Aye Captain. Right away sir." The young man dipped in reply. "Oh and captain… thanks for savin' our arses."

_Well ,well. _

Jack nodded and the young man was off. Motioning a man forward to take the helm Jack took a step back and breathed a deep sigh as the full weight of his muscles came back to him as if the reality of gravity had been forgotten after standing there unmoved for such a long time.

"Keep the bow west, to the tide."

"Aye captain."

Jack turned and left the man to do his work and went to do his. Craning his neck he let out a moan and walked to the railing, receiving the general unpleasant feeling of pin pricks all throughout his legs with each step in the process.

"Oi well done Jack, well done indeed Captain!"

Jack turned abruptly to find the scruffy grinning face of Joshamee Gibbs approaching and although Jack just wanted to smile and return it with a pound of wit and demand for a bottle of rum and a week in his cabin or brothel of his choosing he instead let his eyes, still heavy with sternness and exhaustion, to all the talking. Gibbs smile faded and his own eyes grew heavy.

"Casualties?"

"None."

"Then what's the long face f'er?"

Jack turned away. "Should I have a smile?"

"The men…"

Jack looked at him, hard.

"I s'pose not."

Jack turned back to the railing and looked out at the calming sea. A long moment passed and Mr. Gibbs cleared his throat. Jack's mind was wondering again. It happened more frequently and each time for longer periods of time. Some thought him crazy. Some of the men were beginning to wonder. Gibbs had to keep a close eye on him, but after this little stunt he pulled those men had quickly shut their mouths.

"We stay here for the night Master Gibbs. Let the men catch up on some much needed rest. In the morning we'll look for a clean serviceable pier. I don't want to be anywhere near the wreckage. Take us to the end of the docks, to the merchant pier if need be. I want the _Pearl_ safely berthed."

"Aye captain, that she will be."

"Also. Give the men a full ration of rum with dinner this evening, with my compliments for their hard work ."

Gibbs eyes widened, his jaw grew slack. "But-"

"What? You have a better idea?" Jack narrowed his defiantly in a look you do not question. Gibbs couldn't help but shake his head.

"No sir. …it'll be done.""

"Good. Now I'm going to my cabin and am not to be disturbed. I assume the men will be tired but if they are not they will be permitted some entertainment on the main deck. Basic ships rules apply. Good evening Master Gibbs."

"Evenin' Captain." Gibbs replied as if in a daze.

He watched Jack swagger off and down the steps before he shook himself and looked to the helmsman, who, had heard every word and, shrugged and went back to his work as if it had been the most natural thing in the world. Then again this was Jack Sparrow.

Jack sat in his cabin with a book on his lap a bottle at his hand and a smile on his lips. He felt tired but content. He hadn't felt like this in years. Literally. He was surprised he was sitting here like this, truly he was but he was surprised he had never done this before. He was reading. He wasn''t working. He had come to his cabin slept for three of four hours got up paced about the cabin before he had picked up this book off the shelf grabbed a bottle sat down and just begun to read. He had forgotten about it when he had left his father's house last night, he had slid it into the pocket of his jacket but he had found it early this morning when he had put his jacket on and he had placed it on the bookshelf for safekeeping and there he had picked it up.

It was his mother's journal. Perhaps, yes, that may seem like a very uncomfortable thing to read but quickly Jack's fears were put to rest. Not only was he assured in the first entry that there would be no entries about flighty female imaginings but just by flipping through the pages he quickly fell upon a few very detailed sketches of some very detailed sketches of some very beautiful women. But tearing his eyes from the virtuous sketches Jack turned back to the first page and picked up his glass.

_Alright mum. You've already been proven a skilled drawer, let's see who you really were. _

Jack took a sip of rum and turned the page.

_May 12, 1706_

_Phoebe has urged me to write although I don't care to. My family is dead. I have no family, no friends… sorry. Phoebe has seen that and swatted me. I only have Phoebe. There is that better? She is happy now. England is dull, rainy and I am stuck here until I am of age, come into fortune or I marry. I will never marry. I hate the thought and would rather kill myself. Pleasant thoughts Phoebe dear? How's this? Kittens and puppies, ribbons and… hangman's noose, war and desolation. I hate this place and hate being held here. I am a prisoner. Phoebe has proposed we run away in the dead of night and jump on a ship marry us a handsome sailor or find us some dangerous rogue, the other girls heartily agree and say they shall cover for us, feeling heartily sorrowful for my loss but I only groan and turn over. Phoebe's plans always include marrying or finding handsome rogues or being saved by pirates doesn't she know they don't exist?! Nothing ever works out like that. She's such a dreamer._

Jack smirked_. They don't exist eh mum? … I think I would have liked this Phoebe girl. _

_May 15, __1706_

_I hate this school. I hate England. I hate these girls. … _

_Phoebe sits in the corner of my room with a frown, dipping strips of cloth in warm water for me. I got the rod again. I was struck, repeatedly, for protecting a defenceless servant girl. A little girl half my age. I was struck with a metal rod for protecting a black girl. _

_I am covered in black and blue welts. Phoebe says it doesn't look that bad but this has happened before. Last time I stripped my dress and looked at my back in the mirror. I can see them. I have seen them, I can still see the marks from last time. I will always see them but they don't care. This is discipline at a ladies school. Phoebe is crying, silently, but I can hear her tears fall. I don't cry though, although it hurts so, I just think about Chloe. I just think of how she was spared the beating, I took it instead._

Jack laid the book down on his lap and picked up his glass. Taking a breath he took a drink. His father had been right about what he had said upon giving him the book. He remembered the words as clear as ever.

'_It'll tell you more than I ever would.' _

Jack looked across the cabin. His father could have told him his mother and her friend but reading her words was different. He could have told him she had trouble at school but taking beatings for servants, little black servant girls not half her size… Jack took a sharp breath. Reading her own words expressing _that_, that brought him closer to her. Then Jack without warning looked to his bureau. Picking up the book he set it on the table next to his glass. Standing up he walked to the bureau and pulled open the top drawer.

Without trying to keep the sad smile from his face he reached in and pulled out the thin linen shirt folded on top. He didn't unfold it, he only held it a moment and rubbed the fabric between his fingers smiling to himself thinking about another girl, his mother's entry about the servant girl, brought to his own mind.

* * *

: More Jack to come. I Just watched Chocolat, with Johnny Depp, and got some great inspiration- I hope to leak it in the coming chapters. Hey, who of you love Chocolat? ... what's your favorite Mr. Depp movie? Let me know. Personally I adore him as the charming pirate captain, or the gypsy drifter the most.


	31. Memories of the Past

:Short but I'll soon add another chapter to this entry. No worries.

* * *

"You know you're late?" Teague walked through the hall, not even bothering to turn.

"Eh, ya I-"

"By a day."

"Yah, about that."

"Did it hit 'fore you came or during?" Teague asked as he entered the study. Where they had spent so much time the other night. Jack looked around. It looked so much different during the day. That and..

"Where's the stuff?" Jack looked around wildly. "Da where the hell is mum's stuff! You didn't get rid of it already did you? Shite! Da!"

Teague frowned at Jack's outburst, his wild reaction was surly out of place for such old and sentimental stuff, but then again he was his mother's son. And if that wasn't the reason Jack''s thought's of late were.

"Tell me you didn't Da!" Jack exclaimed, on the verge of grabbing his father and shaking him he looked at him, his eyes wide and feverish.

"No. I didn't."

Jack breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"…Sorry da… Where is everything?"

"I had them moved to the spare room. I couldn't live in the clutter anymore." Teague threw his hand towards the hallway. "Go look if you want."

"I trust you."

Teague and Jack met each other's gaze.

"About yesterday." Jack said finally. "Sorry I didn't come. I had to take the _Pearl_ into the bay and ride out the storm."

Teague hooded his eyes and raised his chin.

"Two wrecks aye?"

"Aye. Good thing we took her out too or we would have been another.""

"That so?"

"Aye."

"So tell me, you put a good man at the helm, I hear it was a hellish tempest."

Jack clenched his jaw and looked at his boot. "It was…I took it."

Teague narrowed his eyes, rather surprised actually. "That so? How was she handled after you were relieved, your men were able to hold 'er?"

"No. No one relieved me. I rode out the storm. I stood there until the winds abated and it rained no more."

Teague held his gaze on his son's face, Jack raised his chin proudly he saw the dark glint in his father's eyes and the smirk in the very corner of his mouth.

"I have some work to do. Feel free to go through the trucks. Set aside what you want. I think there's an empty trunk in there, you can use it for what you want. Take anything. I'll come when I'm finished." Teague turned, picked up a bottle and handed it to his son. With a funny sort of look in his eye he walked past Jack as he passed it off. "Here. To chase off any unwanted memories."

Then he was gone, disappearing from the room like he had never been there. Jack looked down at the bottle and weighed it in his hand. For ghosts. Alright. He could do this. He didn't remember her that much. Clearly not as much as his father did. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

But first, to find that empty trunk.

--------

Jack thought he was strong but as trunk after trunk of his mothers things were opened, handled, felt and breathed he could bare it no longer. He was forced to turn to the bottle his father had given him and uncorking it, he poured himself a glass. Raising it to her with sullen eyes he took a sip, placed it on the floor next to him and pulled, yet another glass from the trunk before him.

Regretted not seeing it more often, Jack rubbed the fabric between his fingertips and smiled sadly. This had been his mother's church dress. Not that they went to church long enough to merit a dress but that was a different story, but he had always loved the way it looked on her. It was mostly white with accents of lily yellow, it was modest but beautifully so and the cut was one which never went out of style. Jack's nose burned as he looked at it now, so sadly tucked away for so many years forgotten, and all those memories with it. Jack quickly blinked the blurring from his eyes and set the dress aside. It was in very good condition and he knew, rather hoped someone else might wear it one day.

Looking back to the trunk, tucked under a shawl, he spied a black box. Curiosity perked, Jack pushed the clothing aside and pulled the box up to find gold designs painted on it. It was a jewellery box. _Another_? Jack was surprised, he had already found two in the three chests he had looked through. From what he remembered of his mother however she was not one for very grand things, but the jewellery and jewels he had found in those boxes were quite rare indeed, and from all over the world. Gold from Egypt, jade from China, diamonds from Africa. With all of this he was rich beyond his wildest dreams, yet his father didn't want any of it. _She had never wanted any of it? Why?_

Jack looked at the box in his hands, it wasn't large, only about a foot in length and ten inches in width. It looked oriental but not like anything he had seen before, it seemed to be a different style, an older style but it was not chipped or faded. Not only that, the box was locked. By looking closely you could see the lock too looked oriental. Jack looked at the keyhole and furrowed his brow. _Where would he ever get a key like this_? Maybe he would find it in one of the chests. Jack set the box aside. He could always shoot the lock off if it came to it.

By the time Teague came around, Jack had already gone through most of the trunks and filled the empty one that had been standing by, while littering the floor around it with more trinkets he wanted until he could find something to put them in. Not only that, he had near emptied the bottle his father had given him, and because of the strength and age of the contents of the bottle Jack wasn't sitting as straight as he once had after the first few sips.

Perhaps Teague had thought wrong when he had presumed his son would use a little restraint with the bottle this day and acted foolishly when he had left him alone without warning him of it's strength but as Teague stood as the door and watched his son sitting before a trunk, with his back towards him, swaying slightly, it didn't look as if he was in a drunken stupor but, with his head bent down as it was, singing or something of the sort. Teague, believing far more in silence than words, waited rather than questioned and quickly received an answer to his unspoken question.

Jack jerked to the left and gently swaying a gold locket into view, hanging from his fist, he grinned.

" _Yo ho, yo ho a pirates life for me_." he chanted gently.

Laying the locket into his other hand Jack fingered it with his finger and mused aloud, be it drink talking or be it simply _Jack Sparrow _it was for the benefit of Teague and although it heart was old and cold it still penetrated deep.

"Not the kind of song I would have thought to come from a lady."

"_We pillage, we plunder we rifle and loot_."

Jack slid the locket from one hand to the other and then into his pocket, turning back to the jewellery box he picked up another piece his mother had worn, once or twice, and smiled.

"How did you come about hearin' a song like that? That friend of your's teach it to you or did da and the men teach it to you?" Jack picked up a set of earrings and admired them.

"_We're devils and black sheep-really bad eggs_…"

" You taught it to me remember? We used to sing it all the time! _Drink up me hearties yo ho_!" Jack threw his hands in the air, grinning. " _Yo ho, yo ho a pirates life for me!…._ It's me favourite song… but you know that… you _knew_ that. You knew all 'bout that... all 'bout us. What we liked and didn't like. You knew us before we knew ourselves. You…"

Jack, blindly, reached for the bottle again. Uncorking it, he tossed the cork across the room and angrily took a swig. Teague sighed heavily from the door and turned away. It hurt him to see Jack going through his, confronting _his_ ghosts, but he couldn't stop it. Maybe that was the only way for Jack to become who he needed to and let go of that painful past they shared. It was a dark deed but they all needed to let go, maybe for Jack it wasn't his mother but being here might help mend the rift between father and son before it too would be to late.

Teague took a step back and cleared his throat sharply causing Jack to jerk his head around and wipe his mouth on his sleeve quickly.

"When you're done here I'll be in the back room." Teague hardly looked about the room as he spoke but his words were sharp and to the point, clearly he did not want to be there.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Teague held his son's betrayed look, a look mixed with remorse and sadness for the one sided conversation he had been having and the betrayal of having someone sneak up on him like that without any warning.

Teague gave a little sake of his head and allowed the corner of his mouth to raise into a kind, genuine fatherly smile.

"Not long."

With that he turned and left Jack to continue his swagger down memory lane and his fight with his own painful memories. He could tell his father didn't want to be here and he didn't blame him. To be truthful, Jack didn't want to be here, and he sure as hell didn't want his father here. It was hard enough doing it alone. Just hours ago Jack didn't think he knew his mother very much or shared very much in common with her yet here he was, half drunk, misty eyed, talking to the shadows he was talking to her, like she was sitting right beside him. He would much rather do this alone than with the man that had loved her for so long. Jack knew for certain Teague would never set foot in this room with another person and looking around now, and the bottle in his hand, he began to understand why.

Not too long after Teague left the doorway the smell of fresh brewed coffee brought Jack a-wondering back to Teague's back rooms. Coming in with a sad look on his face Teague motioned to the deep chair across from him and stood.

Jack sat down silently but inside he groaned with the intensity of a dieing warrior. Both physically and emotionally exhausted, Jack just sat limp and stared blankly across the room until Teague appeared at his side with a steaming mug and chirruped.

"Jackie."

Jack turned, dazed, and took the mug. Cradling it in his hands he took it with a quick smile of thanks and went back to staring off blankly. Teague frowned, pursing his lips, he returned to his seat and sat quiet for some time thinking before deciding to shake these thoughts.

"You remember Giuseppe, Jackie?"

Jack turned his head slowly and nodded, bringing his mug in towards him he looked down at it for the first time.

"Aye. He was one of your friends when we lived in Madagascar."

Teague nodded lightly.

"He ever sail with you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"He seemed to know a lot about sailing is all, and a lot about you and mum. I remember that."

Teague smirked. "No but a few of the lads have big mouths and high opinions of your mother and exaggerated stories of our spirited romance. The one occasion they met a friend they elaborated on our seafaring history and we never heard the end of it."

Jack grinned softly and took a sip from his mug. Sighing contently as the hot liquid soothed him from within he made himself comfortable and turned his eyes to his father again.

"While we're on the subject, I wouldn't mind hearing more about this history of yours."

Teague blinked slowly, shaking his head and flicking a braid from his shoulder dangling dangerously close to his mug he began.

"Things soon began to change aboard the _Ash Bough _with a new target in mind…"


	32. The First Prize

:Just a Note:

Thank you to the anonymous reader who pointed out my mistake on the location of Cardiff. Cardiff is not in England but Whales. I apologize and thank you so much for pointing it out, I'll be careful to refer to it in it's proper location from now on. : )

* * *

Teague had spoke the truth.

Within the days that followed many things did in fact change, but not with the force that could be rendered drastic. Arabelle no longer worked with Mr. Hardy in the kitchen but rather she spent her time in the company of the captain or Mr. Fennel prepping for any encounters

No one seemed to notice the change afoot, they simply busied themselves with the surging anxiety of bagging a prize and calked it up to training. But as conversations between the Captain and the protégé increased and taunts came easily looks were exchanged amidst the crew with understanding. No longer was this woman a visitor aboard this piratical vessel, she was now an unspoken member of it's crew.

As befit's a crew of this sort not one of them were blind, slow to understand maybe but stupid they were not, and they knew it took a woman to make this kind of change possible. Things had been unhappy for far to long and they now rejoiced at the season now upon them of plenty, the season of laughter. All became grateful for that unfortunate day in which she came to them, scared and wary, and also they did so silently they prayed she would never leave them.

The following day, like a beacon of hope illuminating the sky a sail was spotted. The moments that followed the initial spotting were dragged out to years and when finally, Madrid from the tip of the crows nest sounded the call that it was a prize feverish enthusiasm spread like influenza. Quickly the order was issued it was a prize to be taken and the crew scrambled to their places with all manner of yelling and cheering.

As Belle rose and found herself on deck she was quickly dragged into the chaotic mayhem. The sun had not yet fully risen and the air was beginning to haze before them was a light mist of fog but it was clear their prize was a frigate, low and sluggish. Belle smiled broadly as she spotted it off the bow and abandoned the main deck to return below and ready herself. Poised on the top step and looking over her shoulder she looked up to the spar deck where, Teague no doubt was standing with a spyglass in his hand and Marshal at his side- both eager for action.

Visiting Mr. Fennel promptly and retrieving her clothing she changed quickly in the adjacent room and coiled her hair at the back of her head. Standing before Mr. Fennel for a nod of approval, in a gold gown that much rather belonged on a rich woman in London, Arabelle attempted to calm her swelling nerves. It was happening, it was really happening. They were going to take this ship and with casualties or not Arabelle was going to find herself amidst the action. Suddenly her knees felt weak but Mr. Fennel nodded, handed her a parasol and herded her out the door.

As she returned to the main deck and found herself climbing the last step to the sparr deck she was met by Mr. Marshal. After a surprised moment he smiled, he looked her up and down in appraisal, and looked back at Teague still occupied with the spyglass' view of the prize lurking on the approaching horizon.

"I have to say Captain, you made a right choice in this lass. No one would doubt she isn't a lady of fine breeding."

Arabelle smiled softly but her brow arched defiantly. After all she was still a sharp tongued, barefoot island girl under these fancy clothes.

Gabriel smirked and turned to Teague as he lowered the glass and regarded the two. Teague looked Belle up and down and nodded approvingly but showed little else emotion.

"Marshal I believe Mr. Fennel is waiting for you. Have Delaney and Murphy outfitted as well."

"Aye captain."

As Marshal left Teague turned his attention back to the sea, watching keenly. A sudden smile sparked in her eyes as Arabelle, only now, realized that she was not the only one who had changed for the coming action. Teague was dressed simply, in quality clothing, his hair tied back in one long thick braid and his face clear of any mirth. The only thing she recognized on his person was his hat and weapons. She smirked then dropped it quickly as she moved to his side, following his eyes to their intended prize.

"How long until we're on her?"

Teague smirked and passed the glass to her. Arabelle fumbled, taking the glass quickly but not knowing what to do. Teague parted his lips, smiling lightly and sidestepped, ushering her forward. Belle stepped forward, eager to try, and slowly raised the glass to her eye. Teague took his place off to her right and stood fast, closely next to her. Turning and glancing over her shoulder, knowing he stood very close, she caught his black eyes ready to scold him for his proximity but something made her not. As she met his eyes, and saw that they were sharp but kind she felt chastened, but Teague simply smiled down at her- a smile she could not help but return.

Teague raised his arm, parallel to the horizon, and pointed to the white square marring it's perfect cerulean line.

"There. Two points off the bow. Raise the glass to your eye and hold it level. Steady now, scan the horizon until you see her." He advised patiently in a tone that merited respectful obedience. "Slowly luv, you won't see if you look that fast."

Arabelle bit her lip and steadily, with a slow sweep across the horizon, she moved from left to right. Scanning the horizon she passed back and forth twice before she found the sail and focussed on her. For the first time saw what was to be a prize, their long awaited first prize, and she could not contain the swelling anxiety in her heart. Arabelle quickly dropped the glass from her eye and flashed her advisor a bright smile over her shoulder. Teague's eyes sparked but he just nodded in the ship's direction.

"She's a frigate, you can tell by her number of sails. She's smaller than we are and slow, so she's an easy target. At this speed we'll be on her in an hour or two."

"And before the day is out we'll have our first prize."

Teague smirked. "Don't go counting you're eggs 'fore their laid luv."

Arabelle scoffed in good humour but took it to heart. He was right, they didn't have her yet.

"Captain, may I have a word?"

Teague turned and nodded to Hudson standing a short distance away, waiting for an audience, then turned back to Arabelle.

"Keep your eye on her."

Arabelle gave a quick nod and raised the glass to her eye once more as Teague left her side.

"Sir we've gotten word she's a French vessel. Shall I have word to bring up the French flag and have it raised?"

Teague's black eyes connected with the frigate sharply. "See that it's done Mr. Palmer. Notify Mr. Mather to make ready the distribution of arms."

"Aye sir." The younger responded, nodding in recognition.

"Mr. Marshal will be accompanying us across, so Mr. Murphy will be in command of the ship in our absence."

Hudson nodded. It was smart, Avery was very competent.

"But you will lead the attack."

Hudson snapped back to attention. _What_?

"Mr. Murphy is to act as a distraction as you sound the alarm and swarm the ship."

"Thank you sir." Hudson replied quickly, standing a little straighter with this responsibility laid upon his shoulders.

Teague trusted his boatswain but it was the first time he had been put in charge of a raid and this was not a time for mishaps. Teague, as captain and superior, was obliged to fix him with a stony look and clearly convey his orders with sternness.

"Those on deck should be half the crew, and they should be presentable. Have any man who looks like he belongs on a French vessel posted to his station. Everyone visibly foreign will be posted below to swarm her on command."

Hudson nodded, already formulating a list in his mind of the crew that would be on deck and that below. Teague continued, his stone stare not even wavering.

"I don't want milling about once we're in range, everyman not posted to a station is to remain hidden below to await the signal. It would be wise to have a trusted man in charge below…"

"Mr. Harris can see to that, he is well minded and stern with your orders. There would be no questions asked."

"See that it is done Mr. Palmer."

Hudson nodded and left, swift to carry out his orders and fulfill his duty.

Teague looked ahead, over the bow and squinted against the sun, to the ship holding fast to it's place on the far horizon. He had given the order a short while ago that they were to beat to quarters, they were on her. Teague would not back down, not for anything. He was confident they would have their prize within the morning, the _Ash Bough _was in fact the fastest ships on these waters. Teague scoffed to himself. That's what every captain said about his ship. The _Bough_ was fast but she was large, a smaller ship would be swifter.

Teague squinted as he looked over his ship, the spotless deck and well kept sails. The _Ash Bough _was an old ship, she had outlived two captains before Teague came along. She had history, she had speed and strength but she was getting old. Teague rested his hand upon the railing and looked over her with approving eyes. Teague was not the sentimental type but there was one thing he believed in firmly, and that was that a ship- made of wood and iron- had a soul.

Yes, the _Ash Bough_, to him, lived and breathed just as much as the next man but she was old. She was an old lady, loyal and powerful but weakening with age. It wouldn't be long before she would give out. Teague hated to do it but the time was approaching when it was time to retire the lady.

Teague patted the railing affectionately one last time and turned to observe Belle standing in the gentle breeze looking like a child all in her glory, which was quite amusing, but he did not return to her side. Instead he uttered a short order to the helmsman and held his place above the crew, above the ship, meticulously overseeing every detail of work going on under his gaze.

Gabriel, suddenly reappearing from below, noticed Teague standing tall before the crew and headed directly to him, Raul, Avery and Mr. Fennel close behind, for inspection. Each man was dressed in a dark grey long coat and black trousers, a white shirt and black waistcoat, with a cutlass strapped at their sides and, as Teague oversaw, two pistols hidden on their person. While Teague looked them over quickly, Mr. Fennel went to Arabelle and ushered her back towards the group of men. Teague looked at the four of them. Gabriel, Avery, Raul and Belle all grouped together awaiting an order. They looked sharp in their new clothes, presentable as merchants and their families.

Teague raised his chin, confident this would pay out greatly. His eyes quickly passed over them before resting upon his quartermaster.

"Mr. Marshal. You and Mr. Delaney are to follow our every move, stay close and be ready for close combat."

Both men nodded and rechecked their arms.

"Mr. Murphy, you are to remain behind and stand as my voice aboard the _Bough_. I have placed control if the alarm and boarding party in Mr. Palmer's hand, but you will act to distract the French. I want you to keep a close eye on the goings on. I want you to know the ins and outs of that ship the moment we are on her."

"Aye sir."

"Mr. Fennel shall I need you, you are my steward and you will remain on deck with Mr. Murphy."

"Very good sir."

"Luv, you're to distract the captain and surrounding crew as best you can. Put on all the airs and graces, but without calling too much attention."

Arabelle nodded.

"To your stations then lads."

The men nodded and dispersed, each down the stairway to patrol the deck and ready the men. Arabelle turned and stood back from the helm, warming herself in the direct rays of the sun. Mr. Fennel stood off to the side of the deck, waiting, like any servant might, and Teague- he kept his eyes on the prize.

Three hours later they were on her, they could clearly see everyman on the ship and with a hale to the other captain standing on his deck, proud to meet another Frenchman at sea, they prepared to come along side her. Teague gave a few brisk orders to the helmsman and Mr. Palmer, standing close, then turned to call Arabelle to his side but she was already there. They met each other's eyes and Teague offered his arm with a tight jaw.

"Thank you my love." Arabelle mocked with a leering smirk.

Teague growled. "This is no time for cheek darling."

Arabelle just smiled, giving him a cocky look but he ignored her, the chance of a prize being far greater important than a verbal battle with her.

"Are you nervous captain?"

Teague looked at her, surprised she would even suggest something like that. He scoffed.

"Of what?"

Arabelle furrowed her brow. "Of the other ship, the other captain… what might happen. What else?"

"Why?"

Now it was Arabelle's turn to scoff.

"That's true. You're Captain Teague, as far as the world's concerned you are Blackbeard, the worst and deadliest pirate since Captain Kidd. Forget I said anything."

"I already have."

Arabelle frowned at his dull tone and turned her face away, her eyes glancing to the opposing ship and the rows of guns docking her hull like black eyes. She swallowed hard, not too sure about this idea and regretting she agreed to it. Turning back to Teague, ready to confess her fears and back out, she felt her anxiety relax upon seeing the confident smirk upon his lips.

"I know what you're thinking…you're perfectly safe."

Belle chuckled falsely, not at all having her worries truly diverted. Teague stopped at the bottom step and turned to her, his smirk depleted and his eyes serious.

"I've never lost a man I didn't want… and I'm not about to start now."

He then turned and, before she could thank him for his confident reassurance, faced the _Emilie_ and her boisterous captain, who was now at his railing gesturing a welcome.

"Bonjour, _bonjour_ Captain!"

Teague nodded, squinting slightly in confirmation. "Bonjour."

"What can I do for you mon captain. It is a rarity we should meet another Frenchman upon these wild seas. What business has brought you here?"

"We are on route to the Indies, I am a merchant for our colonies. We've fell upon hard times and saw your flag, hoping you- our brothers from France- would have some news of our home. My men and I long to hear any news of our beloved France."

Arabelle smiled to herself. _What an actor… is it talent or desire that fuels these touching words? No, now doubt it must been a vast experience with lies that make his words flow so beautifully._

"Ah, France is thriving my dear captain, but I must admit it has been some time since I have witnessed such a fine beauty of France." The captain's eyes were locked on Arabelle. She was surprised but for his benefit gave him a shy smile. "Your wife I would wager?"

"The very one." Teague replied with little emotion.

"Why you lucky dog! Won't you come aboard, we will share news and drink. Be a good man and bring your gorgeous wife and we will talk leisurely."

Teague scoffed. _Gorgeous wife_.

Arabelle elbowed him quickly in the ribs and fluttered her eyelashes to the watching captain, in hopes it might distract him, then looked to Teague expectantly for his answer.

Teague gave a little snarl but otherwise ignored her completely and nodded.

"You are too kind."

Teague turned and shouting an order, the men jumped to work and secured lines across to the _Emilie_ as Teague turned to Arabelle. With her eyes on the _Emilie's_ captain shouting his own orders Arabelle gripped Teague's arm, nervousness overcoming her once again.

"What?"

"Are you sure about this?" Arabelle whispered.

"Yes. Just follow my lead."

"What if he doesn't go for it. What if he knows we're not-"

"You'll just have to distract him so he does."

Arabelle's brow furrowed. This she didn't like.

"No. No, I won't."

"Yes you will."

"But I don't-"

"I don't care."

Arabelle pouted angrily. "And how am I suppose to do that? You're my _husband_, won't he think that odd?"

"A Frenchman?"

"What about you?" Arabelle groped. "Don't you care?"

Teague smirked. "The thought of moving his cargo to our hold will console me."

Arabelle frowned, she didn't like this at all. Teague's eyes danced with mockery as he gave her a grin and turned her towards the, now secure, plank between ships.

"Do you even know how to flirt and arouse interest from men?"

Arabelle pursed her lips and gave him a dirty look, which luckily he did not catch.

"It has been some time but I'm sure I can recall." Arabelle raised her chin and looked expectantly to the captain waiting on the deck before them. She gave him a smile. "It's so hard to remember how to act with captivating men when I'm surrounded by such distasteful ones."

Teague's brows raised but he let it pass. He would reply to that later, she could count on it, but right now they had a job to do.

Teague and Arabelle stepped onto the deck of the _Emilie_ with grace, one with a smile and the other with the ghost of a frown. The captain however did not notice, he removed his large bicorn and bowed deeply with a flare of elegance.

"Bonjour, and welcome aboard the _Emilie_. I am Captain Augustine LaFluer, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Teague raised his chin and nodded respectfully but did not return the bow. Arabelle tossed her head slightly, to feign boredom but kept her eyes sharp, feeling much safer when Gabriel came up to her side.

"I am Captain Etienne Francis. May I present my wife Madame Jacqueline Francis. My Quartermaster, Mr. Bodeen." Teague motioned to Gabriel and then to Raul. "And my sailing master Mr. Foche."

"Please to make your acquaintance." Captain LaFluer took Arabelle's hand and kissed it, Arabelle smiled as if truly flattered and Teague looked on, approving but wary.

As the Captain released her hand he nodded to the men. "Gentleman."

"We truly appreciate this kind gesture of hospitality Captain." Arabelle gushed, batting her eyelashes and snapping her wrist in his direction.

The captain smiled broadly. "It is truly my pleasure, won't you please follow me into my great cabin, I have a wonderful bottle of Port laid out."

"You are too kind." Arabelle replied and smiled intently at him. She then turned to Teague and batted her eyelashes once more. "Come my darling, do you hear that? I love Port, don't I?"

Teague exhaled a breath, a smile actually, but did not reply in time before Captain LaFluer jumped on the comment.

"You do, well my dear you'll never guess the amount of prized aged Port I have sitting quietly down in my hold. My dear, you could drown Paris with the amount I have." The Captain laughed jovially, in boast, and waved them forward towards his great cabin, .

"You don't say." Arabelle replied softly and rested her hand back on Teague's arm as they both looked at each other, sharing a victorious smile.

- - -

An hour an a half later the ship was theirs, everything went beautifully. Teague played the perfect French captain and gentleman, Arabelle flirted and batted her eyelashes so many times the other captain nearly handed his ship lovingly into her waiting hands, Teague's men fought beautifully- they look the ship smoothly without bloodshed. They possessed the element of surprise to the greatest degree and commanded it wonderfully. And the prize was well worth it for the holds were, in fact, full of Port.

The men had become light-hearted and merry in the following hour but Teague quickly dished out an ounce of discipline to calm their heels about a hold full of spirits. Teague ordered the spirits to be locked up, for sale upon their return to Fort Dauphin. The men all heartily moaned but were soon consoled when Teague promised them all a hefty share of the profit after the sale.

Arabelle, once the deal was done, retired to her cabin below decks to quell her nerves. She had been thoroughly nervous the entire time but somehow managed not to show it, now however she had to deal with it in full force. She descended the stairs with her knees quaking, with her eyes darting two and fro she came to her door and rattling the door handle she stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind her then leaning against it with a heavy breath. She was safe, she had been the entire time, but her mind was running wild with possibilities of what could have happened. Shakily she left the comforting solidity of the door and cross the small cabin to her cot. Sitting down upon it she clasped her hands tightly in each other and closed her eyes, in attempt to centre herself but she only succeeded in making her nerves strain even further.

_This will not due_. She concluded quickly. _Come on Belle, just deep breaths now. Deep breaths_.

- - - - - - - -

Teague stood on the sparr deck overseeing the loading of goods. Now, with a gleam in his eye, he was satisfied. Fresh goods and the promise of profit looming on the horizon he decided it was high time to return to Fort Dauphin and pick up the remainder of his crew. If they made good time they would be able to return and bag yet another fat merchant without their act causing alarm.

Teague turned as Gabriel came to his side and gave an unreadable look.

"The transfer is coming along smoothly Captain." Gabriel said calmly, judging Teague's thoughts.

Teague turned back to the work, gazing down upon the men hauling crates with keen interest, dwelling more so on the luck of railing expensive goods.

"Ehm."

Teague turned. "What?"

"Have you spoken with the girl?"

"No."

"Do you think you aught to?"

Teague turned back, ignoring the question with his normal ease for such unimportant suggestions. Gabriel clearly, being Teague's quartermaster for some time, picked up on this and sighed.

"She seemed quite distressed sir, when she went below. Perhaps if you were to, simply, check on her you might be able to put her at-"

Teague lifted his eyes and Gabriel's words fell silent. But not for long. With another breath of boldness he continued.

"Shall I relieve Madrid from his current duties to see to her needs?"

Teague turned, a sharp frown on his lips, but Gabriel held fast and simply waited, his mouth now shut firmly.

"No. I am not wasting time of mine nor my men to cater to her whims. She's a grown woman, she'll live."

"But captain-"

"If I want your opinion I'll ask for it. Otherwise shut it." Teague growled, his pitch low and unforgiving. He turned away once more.

Gabriel nodded. Vexed by the icy, blunt reply but loyal non-the-same.

"Return to the work below and send Basile to me, in the great cabin."

"Aye sir." Gabriel nodded and turned, now chastened by the order. He knew why Teague wanted to speak to Basile and he resented that. Teague only revealed his plans and thoughts to one person, if any, and that was Basile.

Inside the cabin, tensions were running on a very different level. Teague was holding fast to his narrow view of progress while Basile was slipping into a silent reflection, making Teague second guess his motives.

The relationship between the two men was something, actually of quite a novelty. From an outsider's perspective, Basile was Teague's right-hand-man and body guard, but from an inside view he was much more. Basile was the closest thing to a confidante the dark, strained captain had. What he said with silence could make Teague discover a truth and a simple reflective comment could make him discover an opportunity.

The difference now- Teague was feeling, not a sense of triumph but an uncanny feeling of another sort.

Basile stood rigid before the desk, his brow raised, as Teague sat uncomfortably across the desk cracking his neck.

"Doesn't this prize please you?" Basile inquired, his deep voice shaking the risky silence.

Teague nodded after a long moment. "Spirits always considerable profit."

"With this lot the crew and repairs will be paid in full and I have no doubt their will be a considerable sum remaining."

"There will be, at least a hundred pound."

Basile nodded. "Then what's wrong?"

Teague shook his head. "I think it's best we pull back to Fort Dauphin and pick up the rest of the crew, see to any repairs, and continue collecting prizes."

"Shall I spread the word then?"

Teague stood and walked to the window, refusing to give the actual order. Basile waited, more concerned with Teague's peculiar actions than his orders. Slowly moving forward Basile grew uncomfortable with the unnerving change in Teague, and his mute refusal to acknowledge his existence.

"Teague?"

"Have Howe change course. North by northwest."

"North by northwest."

Teague, glancing over his shoulder, cast Basile a guarded look.

"No matter who asks I'm not to be disturbed."

"Aye sir."

"That's all. Return to your station."

Basile nodded, after a prolonged pause and headed out the door, leaving well enough alone.

- - - - - - - -

Eventually coming to terms with the reality that everything was fine as it was, now safely in the belly of the _Ash Bough_, Arabelle began to regain control of her shaky emotions. She took some more time though, and changed back into a simple shift before putting away the gown and leaving the safety of her cabin.

She had been given this cabin a week prior. It was small and actually a storage room but cleaned out it served as a modest cabin for her situation. At least she was no longer in a cage, and that gave her the greatest comfort. She had felt like a criminal staying in the brig and she did not relish the idea of always being able to be seen, but those had been Teague's orders and she had obeyed them.

As she returned to the main deck she was surrounded by the continuing excitement and bustling of goods. The men, full of mirth and cockiness from their newest prize, jostled Arabelle and tossed cheeky remarks to and fro. Arabelle was quickly swept up in the ease of their enthusiasm and walked through the crew laughing and talking with the lot of them as she made her way across the deck.

Laughing along side them all Arabelle raised her eyes and found Mr. Marshal, not Teague, standing solidly at the rail on the spar deck with a strained look on his face. Actually quite surprised that the captain would hand over the command at such a joyous time Arabelle continued her way through the crew, hard at work.

Not wanting to let this change interrupt the rare happiness she felt, Belle laughed along with the men and nudged her way through them as they powdered her with witty remarks and commendation for that days' events. However, constantly she felt eyes upon her and looking up to where Marshal stood she could see he wanted to talk. So, leaving the cheeky crew behind she ascended the stairs and sauntered to his side with indifference, although she was truly curious about why he stood here.

"Mr. Marshal." Belle nodded in greeting.

"Miss Sparrow." Mr. Marshal replied with civility.

"Is something remiss, I expected the captain to be overseeing work this afternoon." Arabelle ventured, getting right to the point.

"Normally he would be." Gabriel replied.

"Then what's happened?"

"I don't know." Gabriel replied honestly. "Basile went in and came right back out again saying the captain wasn't to be disturbed."

"That's odd."

"Happens all the time."

"Really?"

"Aye. And no one seems to be able to change it."

Arabelle thought for a moment then with a gleam in her eye strocked her chin like an old mizer.

"Gabriel?"

"Aye?"

"Can you see the captain's cabin from here?"

"No why?"

"Then you wouldn't be able to, let's say, see anyone if they went in there would you? Hypothetically of course."

Gabriel thought for a moment and then smiled, lightly. "I couldn't be held responsible. … if someone were, by chance, to disturb him."

"Exactly." Arabelle shrugged, feigning boredom. "Well, I'm a little tired, I think I'll go back below."

Gabriel nodded, shrugging as well and looked out over the crew, as Arabelle stepped away, making a rather apparent spectacle of her sudden tiredness.

"Good luck."

Arabelle turned and saw the helmsman smiling at her.

"For what?" Arabelle smiled innocently and giving him a wink she turned away, heading back down the stairs.

- - - - - - -

Entering without being bidden after two light knocks, Arabelle crept into the still cabin like a skittish cat. Her eyes darting two and fro she scanned the lifeless hazy cabin warily. Stepping into the open reaches off the great cabin she paused, unsure if her curiosity allowed her to permeate his marked solitude.

"Captain?" she asked, glancing around the dim cabin cautiously.

There was silence, and then,

"Pidge."

His voice came from behind the tall chair facing the window, facing away from her. Arabelle slowly, crossed the floor and looped around, coming into view slowly and cautiously. When she did she was surprised to find Teague looking up at her, but looking withdrawn with a full glass in his hand, resting on his knee.

Arabelle took a moment to look over him, choosing her next words carefully. He sat comfortably with the glass in his hand facing the large window in a way that no sunlight filtered over him. Surprising herself she mentally remarked on just how striking he looked as he sat there, his shirt loosely exposing a few inches of his chest and his head resting back against the chair as his dreadlocks and braids framed his shoulders.

Glancing around, Arabelle selected a nearby chair and dragged it forward. Sitting down gingerly and crossing her legs she leaned back in the chair and regarded him with sincerity.

"You're a little less than cheery this afternoon." Arabelle offered with a gentle smile. "What's the problem?"

Teague raised a brow but betrayed no emotion whatsoever but Arabelle's smile remained, growing serious as she turned to the window- deciding to beat around the bush a bit.

"The high morale is highly contagious. You should see the crew."

"I can just imagine." Teague mumbled, taking a sip from his glass.

"Is something bothering you?" Arabelle ventured, not at all truly diverted to ignore the reason she came. "Are you not pleased with how things went today?"

Teague swished his drink around in his glass and looked out the large window, not saying a word. Arabelle watched him, almost looking wistful. She sighed and leaned forward- if she was to sit here she would enjoy it.

"Do you mind if I help myself to a drink?"

Teague shook his head, but did not turn as he tilted his head towards the wall across the room.

"There are glasses in the cabinet."

Arabelle stood and went to the cabinet, fished out a beautiful glass goblet and returned to her chair. Picking up the bottle of the deep burgundy Port they had liberated that morning, Arabelle poured herself half a glass and sat back once more.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened today." Teague said finally.

"Was everything done as you wanted?"

"Aye, but it could have been done better."

"Better, how? There was no one hurt."

"Luckily. We could have done it faster and taken more. Once we return to Fort Dauphin and pick up the remainder of my crew we will have enough men to take the entire ship if we want it."

Arabelle raised her brow. He defiantly had big plans.

"What would you want the other ship for?"

"Keep it, sell it. It would resort in more profit."

Arabelle nodded. It was sensible. But what would happen to the crew of the other ship?

"What about the crew?"

"What about them?"

"What would happen to the other crew?"

"They would be offered a simple choice, sail with us and join our crew or take their chances in a long boat."

"Isn't that a little heartless?"

"These are the shipping lanes luv, they'd be picked up sooner than you could bat and eyelash."

Arabelle nodded, feeling more comfortable with the idea.

"But what about today did you want to talk to me about?"

Teague took a sip from his glass and cast an appraising glance her way.

"If you're going to stay it's better if you can help us along."

Arabelle furrowed her brow. "I thought I was."

"More or less." Teague replied causing her to frown.

_More of less. Ha! Without me you'd have no angle. _She growled silently. _Let's see you try to fool them without me._

"I think it would be best if you were to converse with the captains."

"Very well." She replied dully. She could do that.

"We'll be mainly seizing English and French vessels along this trade route and you'll need to be able to converse with both."

"Not a problem."

"You speak French?"

"Fluently."

Teague arched his brow in surprise. "Not a thing I thought an English lady's school would teach."

Arabelle's eyes studied Teague's face for a long moment before she replied simply,

"They didn't. My parents taught me. My mother was French and she taught all of us to speck and write it fluently. My father approved of us learning, he thought it a way to broaden our horizons."

"But they chose to send you to an English finishing school?"

"Yes, they did. My father being English, he wanted me to have a bright future as my sister did. Both my parents desired that I fit into the world my father came from. They wanted me to me fit into the society that everyone had become so dependant on. A society they were trying so desperately to fit into."

Teague turned back to the window as Arabelle took a breath and herself turned away.

"Besides they thought it would mean I would marry a rich English gentleman and better our fortunes."

Teague turned, but anticipating his reaction Arabelle met him with a sincere smile and a shrug.

"I hated the idea but look what it got me? Fifty gentlemen of fortune."

Arabelle took a sip of her Port and smiled.

"This is good." She said brightly, raising her glass.

Teague's lips betrayed a smile as he looked at her, intently with underestimated kindness. His mind wandering away he marvelled with surprise at just how much he didn't know about her and yet just how much he found himself trusting her.

"You don't mind it do you? Being here."

"I'll be truthful. I did at first. I hated it but now I'm not so sure." Arabelle smiled lightly. "Even you improve on better acquaintance."

Teague scoffed, leaving room for doubt in that last remark but Arabelle retained her smile.

"There is one thing I have been meaning to ask you though."

"What?"

"I'm afraid you'll find offence with it." she confessed.

"You can be sure that I will." He replied with a gentle smirk but urged her on.

"How do you live like this all the time? Don't you miss the land and what it might have to offer?"

"What's there to miss? I have all the freedom I ever wanted. I can do as I please and enjoy the spoils of other-"

"You never feel alone out here?"

Teague's eyes fell upon hers with disbelief.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to ask-"

"Then what were you asking, hmm?"

Arabelle moved back, not at all pleased with the turn of the conversation but Teague quickly remedied her scare with another one of his selfless smirks.

"Aye, I suppose it could be a lonely life but there's nothing I would trade for this freedom."

Arabelle frowned, suddenly remembering something that made her skin clammy. _Emilie_.

"Not even for someone?"

Teague's brows lowered, his face no longer open he frowned upon her.

"No."

Arabelle's face fell, and she leaned back into the chair with the pain she had felt years ago swelling in her breast.

"Didn't she mean anything to you?"

"Who?"

Arabelle sighed and looked at him bitterly.

"You're all the same, you know that. You're all no good, dirty, rotten guttersnipes who _deserve_ to hang."

Teague waited, watching with more surprise than bitterness at her hateful comment. Suddenly this conversation was not only about him… it was about her too.

"This is not the first time you have met with us, is it?" he ventured, coolly.

Arabelle's eyes flared with a mixture of pain and betrayal.

"You have met with us before. It would explain your anger towards us." Teague concluded strongly.

"My anger is just. You are heartless criminals, it has been proven and it will be proven again."

Seeing the pain just darkening her eyes and clouding her vision Teague backed off, for probably the first time in his life, and sat back with his glass.

"Alright luv." He said gently, looking at her with sympathy. "Alright."

Arabelle teetered on the edge of her seat, still staring at him with intensity but her bitterness towards him was flagging. Her anger however, for past wrongs, grew and surged until she stood abruptly and made for the door but Teague stopped her, grabbing her arm just as she entered the darkness of the door. Arabelle turned, facing him with tears in her eyes.

"Why hide this?" Teague asked softly, pulling her back into the cabin gently, like he knew something.

Arabelle tugged to free her arm from his grasp and frowned darkly. "What? I'm not hiding anything."

"Yes you are."

Arabelle's frown softened, now standing before him in the centre of the cabin. "You can let me go now."

Teague narrowed his gaze until Arabelle groaned, looking up at him squarely, then released her.

"I wasn't hiding anything. I don't know who you think I am but I am not the kind of girl you might be used to. I don't simply relate every detail about my life if you cast me a smile."

Teague smirked and lowering his face, Arabelle pulled hers back. Teague's smile deepened at her reaction and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"That's not all they do." He murmured but Arabelle stood fast, she wasn't afraid of him.

"I can just imagine." She replied smugly.

Teague chuckled. "Now luv, no need to be coarse."

Arabelle pulled back and frowned at him. "You should talk."

"You think I'm coarse?"

"You hide everything from everyone." She replied curtly ignoring his question to answer the previous, looking at him severely.

Teague, raising his chin darkly, stepped back and released her.

Taking a defensive step back Arabelle just stared at him, locking his gaze with hers. She was not pleased with his actions, his disrespect of personal space, but she was suddenly momentarily distracted by the look of mortality cross his eyes as he looked at her now.

"I don't trust easily." Teague said smoothly.

Arabelle opened her mouth but Teague interjected.

"You've been frank with me, so now I have with you. That's all."

"Surely that must have it's pains." she concluded with a frown, forgetting her pain for his. "Not being able to trust."

"There is more pain in trusting and being betrayed."

Arabelle lowered her eyes. _Too true_. She turned, ready to leave but she hesitated.

"Not all are capable of betrayal."

- - - - - - - -


	33. Mauritius

: Hey! Shorter Chapter today but I felt like posting. Welcome to Mauritius!

* * *

Soft rains falling from the grey sky pattered across the deck and slid down the canvas sails like some magical healing spell. Not a league before them, laying grey upon the horizon was the peaks of Mauritius. Scheduled to dock only for the day the men, oblivious of the rain, clambered on the main deck for the first sight of land, shore leave once more dominating their minds.

- - -

Arabelle stepped onto the main deck with a confident smile on her lips a few hours later. Dressed in a long coat to protect her from the rains and a sword about her waist under it to protect her from anything else, she crossed the deck and stepped onto the gangplank. Ready, finally for some time on her own in this town, she left the ship without looking back.

She had been here weeks prior but the change was remarkable, then again she was walking these streets during the night then. Arabelle walked aimlessly through the market, scowling to herself about what a gruff, crusty man Teague was. No longer pleased with her strained freedom she groaned at the rain running down her neck and scowled at the mud caking on the soles of her boots. What right did he have to send her off- in the rain- to run errands for him. Arabelle had no idea what it was she was suppose to get but she had been told to go to the iron mill and simply tell a man named Ruben that Teague had sent her- he would take care of the rest.

Arabelle pulled her jacket tighter around her, which actually did nothing against the rain, and sauntered off. At least being sent on an errand meant Arabelle was away from Teague and for that reason she was glad. The man never stopped pestering her. She had thought he had changed after their bitter spat in his cabin but she was wrong. For the past week, on their journey here he had constantly pestered her with jobs and tasks to complete then complained she did not doing them correctly. Needless to say they had fought the entire time and to no avail.

Arabelle shielded her eyes from the rain as she looked up the street. She had been told to follow the main road until she passed the _Angel's Inn_. Arabelle looked to her left and saw the sign '_Angel's Inn' _on the corner building. Arabelle scoffed. Some Inn it looked like. The board walls were in sore need of repair, the roof was visibly damaged and the whole yard looked horribly neglected. However the outward appearance it didn't stop people from entering. As Arabelle stood there in the middle of the street nearly five people went in, jolly and jeering despite the weather.

Turning back to the street Arabelle repeated Teague's directions once again.

'_Go past the _Angel's Inn, _five houses down turn left, at the livery stable on the corner, and head straight up till you find a low roofed walk, follow the board-walk past _Doc's_ shop and go into the large stone archway. That's the front of the _Iron Mill_. Find Ruben and tell him I sent you.' _

Arabelle exhaled a sigh and pressed onward. By now she was soaked to the bone. It had been a considerable walk from the harbour just to get to the _Inn_ and by the sounds of it she still had a considerable way to go.

So quickly, Arabelle made her way through the thinning crowds, up the street as she had been instructed and turned at the livery stable. Several men stood at the large doors smoking and watched her closely as she passed. Arabelle gripped the sword's handle beneath her jacket and watched them out of the corner of her eye but, other than watch her pass, they did nothing. Arabelle signed. Living with pirates didn't cure fear by any means.

_People are daft when they think that being in the company of ruffians is a cure for nerves._ Arabelle scoffed as she lost sight of the men. _It only makes you more anxious and question every glace, every query._

Arabelle walked briskly towards the board-walk as Teague had instructed and once under the thatched roof, she shook herself vigorously. Looking up to press on Arabelle grinned when she noticed a small redheaded girl sitting on a basket by a door a few metres down. The little girl giggled.

"What you do that for?"

Arabelle pushed her loose hair from her forehead. "I was trying to get the water from my coat. I don't think it did much good though did it?"

The little girl giggled again sending her wild red hair bouncing.

"Ya look like a dog when you shake like that."

Arabelle chuckled. "I suppose I do."

"You new 'round here?"

Arabelle smiled again, genuinely at the child's lack of shyness with strangers.

"I am new. How did you guess."

"I an't seen you before."

"Ah." Arabelle replied, making a big play of understanding.

"You just move here? You buy the old Foster 'ouse?"

"No. I'm just visiting. I came on a ship and I'm afraid I'll be leaving again soon."

"A ship? Really? You a pirate?"

Arabelle smiled but narrowed her eyes attractively at the question.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh just 'cause pirates are the only ones who'n stop here… are you?"

Shaking her head Arabelle gave the girl an affirmative no. "But I did come with some."

"How come you're not a pirate if you came wit' some?"

Arabelle opened her mouth to speak but paused, catching movement to her left. Looking up she faced a young woman not too much older than she, with dusty blond hair and a multitude of soft freckles lining her face and a baby on her hip.

"Beg your pardon Miss, was my Molly botherin' you?"

Arabelle gave the women a smile then looked down to the little girl, who apparently seemed to be silently begging her with wide eyes to refute the query.

"No. We were just discussing the weather."

The woman chuckled. "Well I hope she wasn't pesterin' you with questions. She's like that."

"No, she was very polite. But what I am in need of some directions, if you would be so kind. Is this the way to the iron mill?"

"Oh aye. Just keep going down straight. You'll find a stone arch built over the road, to your left, just go through it and turn right again, there you'll find the door to the mill. You can't miss it."

Arabelle smiled with a nod. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Arabelle gave the little girl a smile and stepped away.

"Bye!" she called and Arabelle turned, giving the girl a smile.

"Goodbye."

Arabelle laughed as she turned away again and continued on. So captivated by the little chatter box she was still smirking to herself as she turned the corner at the stone arch and lifted the door's latch.

Stepping inside Arabelle forgot all about the small child as her eyes met with three men standing before her. After a moments of curiosity the men looked away, indifferent to the woman who had just entered. Quickly Arabelle scanned the room, before her several feet was a desk with a man seated at it, looking small compared to the large men standing idly around. Giving each man a once over, Arabelle found a relative secluded spot against the wall and stood here for a few minutes before the scrawny man at the desk beaconed her forward.

"What can I do for you Miss?" he asked, readjusting his spectacles as he looked her up and down, coolly but with the same look every man gave a woman.

Arabelle stepped forward and ignored the three other sets of eyes following her.

"I'm here to speak to Ruben."

"Do you have an appointment?" The man asked looking down at the book before him for a name.

Arabelle stammered then scowled.

"_Thanks Captain_." she muttered "_Leave it up to you to send me here without_-"

"Excuse me?"

Arabelle looked down, abruptly facing the scrawny man frowning up at her.

"No I don't have an appointment but I was sent-"

"I'm sorry miss-"

"Truly I didn't know I needed an appointment, we've just arrived and I was sent to pick up a very important-"

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry but you don't get in without an appointment miss. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you le-"

"Here you are Hastings."

Arabelle jumped as the gruff voice that cut the small man off. Arabelle turned and watched as a large gruff looking man came down the stairs, which lined the left wall, to meet them. He wore a large leather apron over his sooty clothes and carried a large metal hook of some sort.

One of the men who had been waiting gave a irked reply and the large ascending man laughed in good humour.

"She's all patched up, better than new. I'll guarantee this one."

"Appreciate it mate." The man replied and took the hook, after examining it, went to the man at the desk and dropped a few shillings on the table.

"Pleasure doing business with you." The apron clad man announced and looked to the other two customers.

"Alright who's next?"

He seemed pleasant enough, despite the rough appearance and the sore need of a good shave, his demeanour was light and his attitude worthy of recognition amongst the other men she had met along the way through the harbour.

Arabelle lowered her eyes, waiting as the man at the desk cleared his throat.

"I believe this gentleman, a Mr. Thomas was next."

"The lady was first." The man replied, shaking his head, causing Arabelle to look at him with gratitude.

"Thank you." Arabelle offered, nodding at his manners and turning to the apron clad man, as she stepped forward.

"Now what can I do for you miss?"

"I was rather hoping you might direct me to a man named Ruben."

The man grinned and placed his hands roughly on his waist.

"That be me little lady what can I do yah for?"

"I was told you could help me. Captain Teague sent me."

Immediately the man's grin brightened.

"Teague? Why the 'ol dog. He couldn't come here to see me himself? What- he sent you out in the rain for him?"

Arabelle nodded and Ruben growled, again in relative good humour. "Why that… I'll have to re-teach him some manners."

Arabelle smirked. _You have no idea_.

Ruben read her look and laughed heartily. "I can see you agree. Well 'beaut, you just follow me up to my shop and I'll get you what you came for."

"Thank you."

Arabelle followed Ruben up the stairs as bidden and through the door onto a balcony overlooking a large open shop. There were nearly twelve men working here, doing all sorts of jobs, but Ruben lead her to the end of the balcony and down, straight into the organised chaos below.

"Do you own this mill?" Arabelle asked above the pounding of hammers and hissing that came from water touching hot metal.

"Oh aye. She's my pride and joy she is. Good business too. I always need help with the work."

Arabelle looked around at all the men working. From who she could see they all looked somewhat the same, dark hair, wide strong frames, handsome, and a variety of ages. Ruben caught her staring and laughed- abruptly causing her to face him.

"Like my workers? Want any of 'em?"

Arabelle blushed.

"Ah, don't be so modest 'beaut. You know Teague, and that don't give you much excuse for being coy."

Arabelle rolled her eyes thinking about the truth. "Aye, that's true."

Again Ruben laughed, stopping at a nearby workbench and trifling through the odd tool before he produced several small iron pieces of some sort and a heavy lock and matching key.

"Here you are. Teague will have to come back for his other order. We're finishing it up now."

Arabelle nodded and pocketed the pieces that Ruben handed her.

"Do you have any idea of when it will be ready?... In case he should ask me."

Ruben scratched his patched beard. " Should be ready by tomorrow. Have him come back later in the day and I'll have it ready for him, better yet have him bring you along and I'll set you's up with a good ale and some worthy conversation."

Arabelle hesitated, she was truly touched by the offer but she wasn't sure how Teague would react to her coming along. Ruben winked at her, extracting her from her thoughts and perked her interest all in one sentence.

"Sides that way you'll have a good view of me teaching the 'ol boy a lesson."

Arabelle smirked and gave Ruben her hand. "You've convinced me. We'll be here tomorrow."

With a hearty laugh Ruben shook Arabelle's hand and agreed, then showed her back to the entrance waving all matters of payment until tomorrow.

* * *

The next day was clear, although still heavily overcast the rains did not fall. Teague took this opportunity to send all the men aloft to have all the equipment checked over, seeing as they would be leaving this very afternoon and not dock for another few days, he wasn't about to underestimate the weather. Teague wasn't about to head into a storm with damaged equipment, it just wasn't done.

After ordering the ship scoured for defective parts, Teague left charge in Gabriel's hands and sauntered off into town with Arabelle at his side. Being as the town was busy despite the cool rainy weather, Teague and Arabelle walked leisurely through the town, visiting the odd trinket stand along the road to the mill.

Arabelle had truly been surprised when Teague had put up no fuss about her accompanying him to Ruben's shop, but as they walked through the town, talking leisurely she was glad, for she saw a new side to him.

They didn't talk about many things differently than they did before, actually they continually fought, bickering and insulting each other but it was very different from before. He smiled more freely and talked openly, not very much- as was his nature- but when he did she could tell he was not holding anything back. Arabelle marvelled at all he knew about this place and how much he knew about the people working in and around the town.

"Did you live here at one time?"

"No, but here, there are no laws against pirates." Teague replied, casting an interested eye at a trinket vendor's wares.

"Are there many islands around here that have laws against them?"

"A few." Teague replied simply, picking up a ring and examining it in the sunlight. "But not many. The Indian Sea is a very wealthy in piracy, because of the trade routes. We often set the bar in what the islands do."

"It's more profitable to supply pirates and privateers than to turn them away." Arabelle replied, interpreting his meaning.

Teague grinned. "Exactly."

Handing over a few coins, Teague slid the ring he had been appraising onto his finger and stepped away from the stall with Arabelle at his side.

"You see, here piracy isn't what people may think back in Europe. Piracy is a way of life for these people. With nobody rich willing to support the economy many men turn to looting to support their families in times of need and come out earning more in one week than they ever would in a year."

Arabelle, nodding, left the road and stopped at a cloth merchant selling choice fabrics.

"Not all piracy is criminal." Arabelle said gently, choosing a deep burgundy silk of Indian design and looked up at Teague.

Teague grinned and dropped a few coins in the merchant's hand. "No, we're not."

Arabelle smiled and stepped away. "You didn't need to do that."

Teague cast her an amusing look but simply walked on.

"Thank you." She offered genuinely.

They walked on for a few moments not uttering a word when Arabelle slowed, fiddling with the new silk cloth she had bought. Teague stopped and turning a grin spread across his face, making his eyes dance just at the sight of her biting her lip, fighting with the cloth.

"What are you doing pidge?"

Arabelle, trying to twist the cloth about her waist, sighed in agitation. "How do you do this? It won't lie flat!"

Teague chuckled and stepped back to her as she continued to fight with the knot.

"Here, let me." Teague offered, grinning down at her in amusement. As he reached forward to offer aid. Arabelle slapped his hand away, a frown glaring out from her eyes she smirked at his effort.

"What are _you_ doing?"

Teague shrugged. "I'm showing you how to do it."

"Well you can _tell_ me."

"It doesn't work like that."

"And how does it work?"

Teague grinned, in an unnerving manor and leaned over her, staring daringly into her eyes.

"Not like this."

Arabelle frowned, knowing he was no longer talking about the sash but of something more.

"No." She frowned moving away. "It goes _nothing_ like this."

Teague's lips curled upwards into a smirk as he watched the fire in her eyes. But she did not relent.

"_Nothing_ will ever go like this."

Teague just smirked and raised his brow.

"Shouldn't we get going?" she asked, suddenly hoping to remind him and avoid this moment.

"Aye." Teague took a breath and began to walk away without any warning. "Ruben."

- - -

It was apparent that Teague had been here many times because the scrawny man at the desk simply waved both he and Arabelle through without any questions.

As they went through the door at the top of the stairs Ruben met them with a wide grin and loud booming welcome with the atmosphere of the sweltering mill swirling around her.

"Teague you old dog! Finally come to see me have you?" Ruben growled with a smile from the end of the platform.

Teague grinned in reply as he and Ruben shook hands.

"And I see you've brought your better half. I was afraid you wouldn't." Ruben smiled. "Welcome back 'beaut."

Arabelle's smile brightened and gave him a nod but Teague was the one who spoke.

"What's this about holding my order over? We should be half way to Fort Dauphin right now."

"So sorry to here that." Ruben grinned like a father listening to his child whine. "But if you want work done like you requested it takes time. Why don't you go down and say hello to my lads while I get it for you. and I'll meet you down there."

Ruben strode off without another word and Teague began to descend down the stairs to his right. Arabelle stood awkwardly at the top, unsure where to go, when Teague paused and looked back.

"You coming?"

Arabelle gave a nod and followed him down the tall steps. "Where are we going?"

"To see the men." Teague replied simply.

"The workers?"

"Aye. Is that a problem?"

"No. Certainly not." She replied quickly coming to the end of the staircase as Teague went off to greet the man closest.

Arabelle hung back but as Teague greeted the young man a few meters away, someone came up behind her.

"Well well, what have we here?"

Arabelle turned, surprised, to find a young brunette man with large brown eyes and a crocked smile, leaning against the workbench close by. Clad in blackened clothing and a thick leather apron he looked the ideal picture of a working man. Arabelle offered a timid smile and extended her hand, which he took after removing his heavy gloves.

"I'm Arabelle. I came here with Captain Teague."

The man smiled and bowed his head.

"Nice to met you Arabelle." The man replied kindly, but with a flare of youthful self-assuredness. "I'm Sye."

Arabelle smiled and glanced at Teague, still talking, oblivious she was not at his side.

"You been with Teague long?" Sye asked suddenly, with no apparent shame for his curiosity.

"About a month."

"Really?" Sye pondered her reply and smirked. "Good luck with that."

"What?"

"Teague."

Arabelle stared blankly, unsure if she should take offence or laugh, but she was saved a reply when another man came up behind Sye and slapped him across the back of the head.

"Hey!" Sye ducked his head but it was too late. He jumped around and frowned at the man before him.

"Shite Osiah, I thought you were the old man."

"Watch your mouth." The man warned gruffly raising his hand threateningly.

"Alright! What was that for anyway?"

"Stop spreading lies." The elder retorted. "You know there's nothing wrong with Teague."

"I was just having some fun." Sye replied innocently. "I didn't say anything wrong did I?"

Supplicating Arabelle with raised palms she couldn't help but shrug.

"I don't care, you don't speak bad of Teague." She man growled then turned to Arabelle. "I hope you'll excuse my brother, he's not right."

The man smiled, giving Arabelle a wink.

"Oi! Look who's telling lies now." Sye growled.

The elder man ignored him and offered Arabelle his hand.

"Welcome to Cannonier's Point. My name is Osiah." They shook hands.

"Who's this?" Another man asked, coming up to the group with a smile.

Arabelle smiled at his broad grin and kind eyes as he whistled low and wiped his brow.

"Lord, she's a 'beaut ain't she?" She man asked nudging Osiah.

"Aye but what your words Joseph she's Teague's."

Arabelle opened her mouth to contradict that statement but she wasn't fast enough, Joseph replied before she could speak.

"A pity." He pouted.

"What's a pity?"

Arabelle turned to face yet another man walking up to them with Teague, and he too looked like the rest- broad shoulders, dark hair and large brown eyes. Arabelle's head spun, how many were there?

"This 'beaut." Joseph replied adoringly. "She's not available."

"That's never stopped you." Sye laughed, causing Joseph to grin and wink at Belle.

"That's true. What you say darling, leave this old dog for me?"

Arabelle had to laugh but Teague did not seem to find it as amusing.

"That's enough of that." he warned.

"We're just teasing." Joseph defended.

"Aye and I don't like the way you're going."

Arabelle smiled. "Come on, it's harmless. You don't think I'd actually run off with him do you?"

"Ouch."

"Ha. That's the first time a girl let him down." Osiah laughed. "I'm glad I was here to see it."

Teague's eyes sparked with mirth. He watched as the other's introduced themselves to Arabelle, as a smile played on his lips and a shine ignited his gaze. Ruben, coming from across the stop, stopped next to Teague and grinned at the young people as he handed a small mahogany box to Teague.

"She's a charm, there's no doubt about that."

Teague grunted. "You should keep a closer eye on your boys."

"And all of them older than eighteen? No, I'm done running after children."

"What does Maria say about that?"

Ruben laughed.

"Surely your youngest isn't eighteen."

"Helena? No, not even ten yet."

"There. There's one to chase."

"Ney. Runs too fast."

Teague smirked. Ruben didn't look like he could run after anyone anymore but he was a good father, his children were all raised well.

"I'm sure you'll have nothing to worry about."

"Tell that to Maria. Already the little wench wants to go with the boys down to the _Rum Locker_."

Teague scoffed. A nine year old wanting to go to a tavern- that was Helena alright.

"But enough about her, tell me about your little lady." Ruben crossed his arms over his barrel like chest and nodded in Arabelle's direction sending Teague's eyes back to her with envy.

"There's not much to tell." He replied, watching her. "And she's not mine."

"Who's is she then?"

"No one's."

"Then don't go sayin' she's not yours. You and I both know how women feel about you."

Teague scoffed but grew silent as Arabelle turned, to reply to one of the men's remarks, and caught Teague's eye for but a moment.

"She's not like any of them."

Ruben grinned, catching the sight of them catching each other's eye.

"How'd you come about her anyhow. I was under the impression you believed women didn't belong on ships."

"I don't. We looted a merchant vessel, she was on it and one of my men snuck her aboard."

"The man?"

"Dead." Teague replied coolly. "You know the code."

"Aye."

A moment of silence ensued before Ruben grunted at the nerve of his cheeky love struck boys and nudged Teague.

"Come on, round up your lass 'fore they run away with her. I'll take you's both up to the _Golden__Dragon_ for a pint."

Teague nodded, regarding the young group with a wary eye. "We're leaving at high tide."

"I'll have you safely on ye're ship 'fore then, don't worry captain." Ruben grinned.

Teague mirrored his smile and went to collect Arabelle from the clutches of Ruben's infatuated sons. As Teague made it clear it was time they were off the men pleaded and whined but Arabelle simply nodded and bid them a cheery farewell with promises she would come and visit the next time they docked. Somewhat consoled, the men said farewell and hustled back to work, leaving Arabelle in Teague's safe hands.

Walking with Ruben and Teague to the tavern Arabelle was silent but listening keenly to their discussion about the general business of the season. Then, as they sat inside and drank, she laughed as Ruben chastised Teague for sending her out in the rain. Soon, however, it was time to go, and after saying goodbye, Teague and Arabelle made the long walk back to the ship- light-hearted with the good company and relaxed by the grog.

* * *

Pulling away from the pier, the men putting their backs into directing the old ship back out to sea, Arabelle stood at the railing and watched the land slowly begin to recede. She was happy at this moment, her day had been bright and humours with the visit to the mill, but something suddenly stabbed at her.

Caught in an awkward moment of frustration Arabelle leaned over the rail and looked down at the dark water. Jumping wouldn't do any good, it would probably make things worse. Belle sighed and looked back to the shrinking town, once again she was spared abandonment.

"Hey Belle." Madrid stopped at her side and grinned.

"Madrid!" Arabelle immediately forgot her concerns and smiled widely, her lost friend had returned once more. "I've missed you around here."

"Well miss no more, I'm back." he smirked brazenly.

"I'm glad. I'm tired of going about by myself."

"From what I've heard you're not by yourself much." Madrid replied, raising an eyebrow.

Arabelle frowned. "Don't believe all you've heard, I don't enjoy it at all. The captain has such an insufferable nature."

"Who says I was talking about Teague."

Arabelle blushed.

"That's the captain though." Madrid smirked. "Many don't understand him but when you're around it this much you'll learn to overlook those moments. Already you've been causing allot of change around here."

"Well I don't feel like it. Especially when I'm always arguing with him. He always has to push me to far."

"You push _him_ too."

"I do not."

"Oh, I've seen you Belle. No one ever challenges him like you do… they're all too afraid."

"Well I'm not afraid of him."

"I'm not saying you should be… just watch yourself. There's many before you who proved he doesn't take much."

Arabelle shuddered at the thought of his pointed remark. "Surely he wouldn't hurt me. I'm innocent and helpless."

Madrid shrugged, just looking at her helpless face he knew no one with a heart would ever hurt her but he wasn't sure what might be done instead of such a cruel end. One thing was for sure, Teague didn't have much of a patience, but whether that patience would be mended or broken by this lass- only time would tell.

* * *

: There you go. What have you got to say? Let me know.


	34. Something

:Thank you to all those offering reviews, I really appreciate all your comments. A little word goes a long way and I'm happy you're enjoying this work.

* * *

It was the next day when Gabriel came to Arabelle with another order. Since she could not do much heavy work Teague was assigning her to work with Samuel to learn navigation and Mr. Fennel to learn bookkeeping. Within the week that followed Arabelle spent hours below decks surrounded with papers, maps and various other devices she began to know well. Actually enjoying these tasks, of calculating longitude and latitude, writing the description of sand strips and reefs they passed, and even of writing daily in a logbook Arabelle took over for the ageing Samuel.

Other things that refused to bother her was the fact that her work load did not only consist of being below decks but also in the great cabin. She spent many silent hours in the company of the captain- both working on their own tasks- and thus actually began to enjoy these days.

Arabelle looked up from her book, her quill posed over the page and her brow furrowed.

"What is that nitch in the hull called? In which the oars extend from." She asked, narrowing her eyes in thought.

"Rullocks." Teague replied, not even looking up from his papers.

Arabelle quickly scratched it down into her book. "And then that manoeuvre used yesterday when that swell came upon us."

"Boxhauling."

"Right." She mumbled, scratching that down on the paper and continuing her entry when Teague stood and went to the liquor cabinet, unlocked it and took out one bottle and two goblets.

Carrying everything back to his desk he filled the two glasses and passed one to Arabelle. Holding the glass up in the air she lifted her eyes from the page and turned to Teague as he went around the desk to his seat, with his own glass in his hand.

"Now Boxhauling is done in a swell… but why is it used?"

"It's used because the sea makes tacking impossible. When the winds are too strong we can't change the direction as we need to. It's too dangerous to have too much wind in your sails when you're against a squall."

"Because the ship could capsize." Arabelle replied, taking a sip from her glass.

Teague nodded.

Arabelle paused and looked at her glass. "What is this?"

"Wine."

"Really? This doesn't taste like any wine I've ever had."

"That's because it isn't like any wine you've had."

Arabelle took another sip and smiled approvingly at the goblet. "I like it."

Teague smirked and went back to work as Arabelle continued to enjoy her glass of wine and then reluctantly continue with her own work. A few moments of silence ensued until Arabelle slapped her book shut, laid it on the desk and sat back- cupping her wine in her hand.

"I'm done!" She exclaimed with a pleasant sigh.

Teague set down his quill and picked up the handful of papers he was working on. Passing them to Arabelle across the desk.

"Not quite pidge." He replied, tapping the top sheet.

"What's this?"

"Equipment that needs replacing, repairs to be made, and food and supplies to be taken on when we dock at Fort Dauphin."

"This is going to take forever." she moaned.

"It'll take twelve days."

"To carry it out or rewrite it?" Arabelle raised her brow in defiance but Teague only gave her a dull smirk for such cheek.

"Just write it."

"Alright." She groaned and sat forward, abandoning her glass for the quill once more. "You know this is quite monotonous."

Teague smirked but said nothing, picking up his glass he took a sip and sat back.

"Don't you get tired of doing all this?"

"It has to be done."

"But you've got to admit it's really quite boring."

"What's a world without order?"

"A haven of piratical chaos."

Teague couldn't help but smirk at her mockery.

"And you'd contribute to that?"

Arabelle tossed the sheets onto the table and leaned back with her glass of wine in hand. "And forgo this? Absolutely."

Teague grinned lightly over his glass, causing chills to crawl up and down her spine as she stiffened her lip and pointed her quill at his face.

"Don't even think about it."

Teague smirked and lowered the glass.

"I don't like that look." Arabelle warned.

"What look?"

"You had that same look at Cannonier's Point."

Teague smirked, resting his head against the back of his chair he smiled at her in a way that made her curse her desire to blush.

"I mean it." She continued, looking at him severely, then turning back to her work.

Arabelle wrote a few lines before she squirmed and knowing his eyes were still on her she ventured a sly look at his face. Seeing that his intimate grin was still on his face her skin rippled with goose-bumps. Shakily setting down her quill Arabelle met his eyes- not exactly knowing what she was doing but praying it would stop this uncomfortable display.

"What do you want?" she asked levelly, resting her hands on the edge of the desk.

Teague's lips curved into a dangerous smile but he just sat back and watched her, looking utterly wicked with his smirk grinning and his eyes black with uncertainty. Arabelle's confidence faltered as she found herself caught up in that stare- and as before falling for that roguish charm. Fighting the betraying desire to blush Arabelle's eyes flittered from his face to the desk between them, but she lost her fight when she began to wish the desk was not between them.

"I don't know what you think you're accomplishing with this but I'd appreciate it if you'd stop. We've both got work to do." She warned feebly eyeing him with concern.

"What do you think?" He asked mockingly.

Arabelle frowned and looked around for an idea.

Smirking at her hesitation Teague stood and slowly walked around the desk. Watching him carefully as he slowly moved towards her, Arabelle's heartbeat quickened. Feeling uncomfortable with him towering over her, Arabelle shakily stood gripping the edge of the table. Then, smirking behind her back Teague laid his hand on her hip, causing her to shiver.

"What are yo-" Arabelle's breath halted, freezing on her lips as Teague's hand slid up her back with confidence causing her to close her eyes unwillingly.

Teague grasped her hips with both hands, his breath was hot against her neck as he grinned, brushing his lips across her skin. Turning her to face him, Teague's eyes fell upon hers with great intensity of feeling. Arabelle had expected him to be full of smugness and a look of triumph but instead his coal lined eyes were full of what seemed to be keen understanding and tenderness.

Finally Arabelle found her voice, cracking from within as their stare grew with meaning. She was frightened- she had no thought to refuse this contact, nor the look he had in his eye as he held her in his arms with tenderness. She had no objections which as an educated English woman she should have.

Arabelle lifted her hand and laid it on his chest, shifting her eyes from her hand to his eyes and held his gaze doubtfully.

"Teague." She whispered, holding his acute gaze.

The first time she had spoken his name, and spoken it with such gentleness he longed to hear it again. Surprised with himself and his absent coarseness Teague just looked on, his eyes locked on this woman- such an unexpected one- who had such a hold on his affections at this moment.

"Yes?" he replied in a similar whisper, lowering his face to hers.

"I'm not… I'm not like other girls you might have come to know." She said gently, her voice touched with wary unhappiness.

Teague stroked her jaw line affectionately with the side of his hand. "I know you're not."

"Well I'm not… I'm not used to this." Arabelle closed her eyes and breathed heavily.

Teague watched her closely, feeling touched she felt comfortable but wary as to what she was actually trying to say.

"I swore I'd never…" Arabelle looked up, her eyes misting over unexpectedly. "But then I found you here…"

Teague stiffened, the emotion growing far too soft for comfort. He had been comfortable, pleased even, when she did not refuse his advances but welcoming them with a pinning heart he was unsure he could handle. In reality this was only a result of his tender overtures but that did not soften the betrayal, the consequences, of flirtation.

Arabelle immediately felt his reaction and cursed her mouth. _Why did she have to be so stupid? Why did she take that step? She should have known she would be let down. He was after all a pirate. _Arabelle looked away, cut by Teague's silent despondent reply, and pulled to be free of his arms.

Teague frowned. He was not able to return her naïve confession but he certainly did not want to reject it. She was, after all, offering herself willingly with affection, this was not something easily gained and as a true thief at heart he was not about to leave empty handed.

Teague pulled her back into his arms and lifted her chin with his finger to plant a kiss, gentle but neutral, directly onto her protesting lips but sadly for Teague she quickly pushed him away again.

"I'm not for hire."

Teague clenched his jaw. "I know you're not."

"Then why are you touching me?" Arabelle snapped shoving his hand off her arm with spite.

Teague's eyes caught hers with pain. He didn't know what to say but he knew what he wanted to say and just seeing that look in his eyes caused Arabelle to resent her unwillingness to abandon her past.

_Why am I fighting? Am I afraid? Afraid of loosing… of getting hurt? _

Arabelle meet Teague's eyes with apprehension. Unsure of what she wanted to do she looked deeply into his eyes, searching his face for answers when he slipped his hands around her jaw and pulled her back to him.

"Teague I don't-"

"Shh."

Arabelle bit her lips and tried not to tremble as he brought his face closer and then, lightly pressing his lips against hers he kissed her. Following through without hesitation both deepened the kiss with warmth and passion unashamedly ignoring the world outside their own minds.

* * *

The next day Arabelle remained below decks, out of sight and hopefully out of mind, with the lads she had been sorely missing. She wanted some time to think on what had transpired the day before and not being confronted by Teague while doing so seemed the best idea, she wanted time to cool the passion. She knew she was blatantly avoiding Teague, but she was trying to avoid herself and being once again surrounded by her cheeky youthful friends Arabelle began to relax. Sitting back and opening herself to the humorous banter, the present loss of sense that engulfed the table she smiled at them all, very much pleased.

"It's impossible I tell you." Jamie protested.

"Oh come now." Hunter laughed. "You're crazy. It is not, I've seen it done."

"How many?"

"Four."

"Blagueur!" Jamie exclaimed, pointing across the table at his accuser. Hunter ignored him, rolling his eyes and sitting back in his chair comfortably.

"Just because you haven't seen it done doesn't make it impossible Jamie." Avery cautioned.

Arabelle picked up her mug and leaned over to Dominic.

"What are they talking about? I'm lost."

"Jamie claims you cannot eat three hardtack biscuits in a minute and then whistle."

Arabelle grinned, purely in awe of such a ludicrous challenge and the serious reception it merited.

"Really?" she smiled, turning back to those around the table- Jamie with arms flailing to make his point and Madrid and Sam talking amongst themselves with amused looks on their faces.

"This I'd like to see." She confessed to the group, feeling quite childish to encourage such conduct but wickedly so.

The table grew silent as all eyes turned to her.

"Let's see if it is true or not. What is it? Three biscuits eaten and then whistle in under a minute? With nothing to drink?"

"That's right." Hunter replied casting a cool glance at Jamie, who sneered to be singled out.

"Very good. Dominic would you beseech Mr. Hardy for some hardtack biscuits please?"

Dominic nodded and disappeared through the door.

"What happens if we do it?" Phillips' asked with a grin. "Do we receive a reward?"

Arabelle raised a brow at him. "Is not the boasting privileges enough to console the winner?"

"I'd rather a kiss."

Arabelle fought hard to keep the smile from her lips as she watched him wagging his eyebrows with emphasis. She thought he was alone in this and opened her mouth to refute him when Madrid slapped his hand on the table.

"If it's a kiss we get, you can damn well count me in!"

"Madrid!" Arabelle gasped, shocked but amused at her comrade.

"Hey, I'm not up to refusing a kiss from a pretty girl. No matter who she is."

"Aye! Count me in." Avery and Hunter both chorused with vigour, pulling up their seats.

"Don't waste your breath lads. I'm going to claim the prize!" Watson declared, sneaking up behind Arabelle and putting his hand around her waist, which she slapped.

"Not if I have any choice in the matter." Arabelle retorted.

"Ooh. And how are you going to do that now darling?" Watson asked, with a mocking laugh.

Arabelle thrust her elbow into his stomach and regarded the other's at the table.

"I will offer one kiss to the winner, alright. But if the winner beats Watson to claim his prize I shall offer two."

A loud chorus of hurrah irrupted at the table, just as Dominic returned with this biscuits, making Belle smile triumphantly at the accused.

Watson grinned, leaning in close.

"I'd wipe that smile off your face lass, you've not won yet."

Arabelle narrowed her gaze and looked him up and down challengingly.

"I'd sit at the table like the others Mr. Locke, if you are to join this wager."

Watson pursed his lips but his eyes were alive with amusement. With a nod and a hidden smile he left her and moved around the table, taking his spot across from where she stood.

The following moments that ensued were pure pandemonium. Between trying to win the wager and choke down the dry biscuits, each man seemed to try to sabotage his friends' efforts at the prize. At the end of the minute Arabelle was nearly doubled over in laughter as Jamie dropped from his chair, his face red in attempts to whistle but only succeeding in causing Madrid and Hunter to commence laughing and thus forfeit their claim on the prize.

The other's, struggling to keep from laughing and force a sounds from their lips only failed miserably when one, loud clear whistle echoed through the galley. Stopping, choking on the biscuits they all turned to a blushing young Dominic.

"Well stuff me and send me off to the devil himself… was that you Dom?" Avery asked the blushing boy as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, reaching for the bottle of rum on the table amongst them.

Dominic's blush reddened, causing those around him to laugh and poke in good humour.

"Well I'll be damned. Beaten by a lad." Madrid laughed and took the bottle from Avery as he passed it around and tipped it his way. "Well, don't be shy boy. Collect your prize."

Dominic glanced at Arabelle with a stray look mixed with pure naivety, but Arabelle quelled his nerves with a gentle smile of her own. She walked around the table and leaned around him, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. Then casting a cool triumphant glance both Watson and Phillips' way she lowered her lips once more, but this time seductively brushed her lips over Dominic's neck, leaving feathery light kisses all the way up to his ear, where she then kissed it longingly, leaving the entire company speechless.

Arabelle's smile crept onto her face with defiance as she looked over them, then, patting Dominic's shoulder consolingly she glided from the room, her heart swelling with pride for such a well done performance.

Without thinking Arabelle climbed the stairs immediately to the main deck for some air and a moment to rejoice in her victory alone but Madrid soon found her, as he always did. Coming up behind her as she stood by the railing, smiling over the ocean, he watched her a long time before she turned and raised her brows to question him, causing him to smile rather broadly with pride.

"Where did that come from?"

"What?"

"Back there!"

Arabelle smiled and looked down at the deck, trying to find the right words.

"I wanted to put them in their place, that was all."

"That was all?" Madrid scoffed. "Every one of us felt pleasure."

Arabelle laughed gently and blushed but fell no shame for what she did.

"Do you think I will have anymore remarks thrown my way on the subject."

Madrid grinned brightly. "Defiantly not. I think you even taught Phillips a trick or two."

Arabelle stifled her laugh in her hand but looked at Madrid with pure, boundless, amusement. She was happy for what she had done, she was pleased she was able to see those looks on their faces and rejoice in the instance which rendered them speechless. She would not trade it for the world.

"Maybe you should try that with Teague, it might improve his mood."

Arabelle's smile froze instantly.

"What?"

Madrid furrowed his brow at her sudden seriousness.

"I just-"

"You're not suggesting that he and I-"

"No, I was just making a joke." Madrid replied honestly but eyes her curiously. "Why did you think…"

"No, I'd never even consider-"

"Fine. I was just saying you've got skill, I'm sure even he couldn't resist-" Madrid's jaw clenched shut, forcing Arabelle to turn, finding Teague standing a few feet from them, regarding them with minimal, if any, interest.

"Working hard I see."

"We just came up for some air." Madrid replied quickly then smirked. "Things were getting a little heated below."

"Madrid!" Arabelle elbowed him sharply in the rips.

Teague's eyes narrowed, meeting her eyes with a query of silent significance.

"It's nothi-" Arabelle replied quickly, waving it off as Madrid shrugged.

"No. Belle just kissed Dominic."

"Madrid, shut it!"

"What?" Teague turned to Arabelle, frowning.

"I lost a bet." Belle defended quickly, clenching her hands. "That was all."

Teague turned to Madrid and tilted his head with dark displeasure.

"What? I was just remarking on her talent. She was amaz-"

"Madrid! That's enough! Stop it."

Teague's eyes darkened on Madrid, causing Arabelle to step in between them and glare anxiously at her friend.

"Just go. Madrid... please."

Madrid frowned, feeling shut out, but nodded and pulled himself away.

Arabelle took a deep breath and turned, facing Teague's eyes with concern.

"Can we..?" Belle cut her eyes to his cabin and rubbed her hands anxiously together.

Teague stepped aside, as she desired and allowed Arabelle to lead. He was curious to hear where this story would go but even more curious to see what Madrid was so enthralled with, as reguards to her skill. Teague held a smirk and cut his eyes to her back, disapearing into the cabin's humble privacy.

- - -

Closing the door Teague entered the cabin to face Arabelle's back, standing rigid before the desk; dreading to face him with her explanation. Teague moved around her and leaned on the desk before her and he crossed his arms over his chest, meeting her eyes with a narrow gaze.

"Okay, before you say anything I just want to tell you this isn't something that normally happens to me. They were just egging each other on, they dragged me into it. I had to stand up for myself." Arabelle bit her lips, watching Teague's emotionless face with anxiety.

"What was the kiss about?"

"Phillips and Watson tried to get it out of me, I couldn't fight them off, so to shut them up I offered two kisses to the one who beat either of them out. Dominic just happened to do that." Belle clenched her jaw. "I didn't mean to do it, they bet me and I was happier to give it to him than anyone else."

Teague raised his brow defiantly.

"Well, you know what I mean." She blushed. "…I'm sorry."

Teague narrowed his eyes, inching forward slightly as a wash of debonair enveloped them in inky blackness.

"You going to demonstrate some of that talent?"

Arabelle smiled lightly and averted her eyes. She wasn't used to this, she wasn't comfortable with having a man's attention like she did with Teague. Even though she did want to be something special she wasn't exactly well versed in the language of attraction, nor of the workings of it. Surely it would take time but until then she still felt tied to her previous thoughts on piracy… and men.

"I should really get back out there. I've got to meet Samuel down in his cabin."

"You can meet him later."

"You wanted those maps done today." Arabelle reminded him solidly. "We are going back aren't we?"

"Aye."

"Then you'll need these maps finished _before_ we get there." Arabelle raised her chin and turned, eager to avoid this tempting situation.

"You'll be back when you're done."

"I do have a lot of work to do." she replied firmly, hoping to brush him off.

"When you're done, come back."

"I don't think… it'll be late by the time I'm-"

Teague smirked. "All the better."

Arabelle bit her lip as a flash of colour highlighted her cheeks. She turned away without a word but she was aware of what Teague somehow knew. She would have to come back. He wanted her to.

* * *

Up in the rigging, hanging low above the deck was Madrid, watching keenly as Arabelle exited Teague's cabin with a smile, quickly dashing across the deck down into the hold and out of sight. Madrid swung gently for a few moments pondering the unfolding situation with concern. Attempting to piece together what many did not seem to notice he abandoned his place and climbed higher into the rigging, disappearing from all eyes.

Reaching the crows nest Madrid climbed over the head of the rail and sat there before Basile, the loyal patroller of the seas, with uncertainty.

"You were right. Something's going on." He confessed.

Basile smirked.

"I just don't understand it."

Picking at a fraying end of his sash Madrid frowned unhappily and swept his eyes over the clear horizon.

"I thought I understood her. I've known her longer than the rest here but these past few days I've been lost."

"Don't worry yourself about it lad. Everything will work itself out."

"Why, do you know what's going on?"

Basile shook his head. "Can't you see it?"

"What?"

"Love."

"What!" Madrid gripped the railing, hoping it would stop him from falling over. "You can't be serious. Belle and Teague?"

Basile just smiled. "Can you blame them?"

Madrid couldn't help his shock. He wanted to laugh but he couldn't even do that. _Teague and Belle? Together_? Suddenly Madrid smirked, despite his surprise.

"They're both queer, I'll give you that. And they've both got hellish tempers. …you really think it's love?"

Basile shrugged. "It's either love or lust. You can't really tell until something happens."

"Like what? What do you mean?"

"She's got a face I'll give you that but Teague's never been one for steady women."

"You don't think it'll work."

"Can't be sure. I doubt they are anyway."

"How can they not be sure? I mean you love someone you just go-"

"It's not that simple." Basile replied gruffly.

Madrid pondered that a moment then rubbed his chin, looking out over the ocean.

"Do you think all the bickering is a problem?"

"Passion can rule love or ruin it."

"Aye but they always seem to come around again don't they?"

Basile nodded. _It did seem to happen... after a time._

"That's true but there's a hole in it."

"What's that?"

"If they do fancy each other why don't they do anything about it?"

Basile smirked. "How do we know they aren't?"

Madrid looked hastily down to the deck, remembering Belle's smile he scoffed at that thought. Basile was right, again. _How did they know nothing was going on?_


	35. Sweet Songs

: I know I'm a little late for the deadline I wanted to keep but I've been having some trouble with writer's block. Thus this chapter is a little shorter than usual. I'll try and get this thing into line.

Enjoy it everyone and please don't forget to drop a line.

* * *

Arabelle was able to dodge any intentions Teague might have had requesting her return that very night, by bringing along a pile of work Mr. Fennel deemed very important but the next did not follow as easily controlled.

Not even knowing what she was doing still in his cabin long after sunset without any work, Arabelle should have been scolding herself but instead was captivated by Teague as he sat across from her strumming on his guitar, she was captivated by the light mystic sound coming from his fingertips.

As if she wasn't even there Teague leaned over the guitar with delicacy, giving her a perfect view of his body under the thin shirt, and only causing her cheeks to flame with unrecognized desire. Strumming a few long cords his fingers stilled on the strings, letting a heavy silence fall lightly over them once more.

Arabelle took a deep breath as he pulled back, sitting up straight, opening his eyes as he did. Arabelle bit the corner of her lip, watching him with want as his fingers stocked the guitars' body with reverence. His touch was so gentle, so adoring.

Teague looked over at her and flashed a grin from deep within his eyes her way. Struggling to regain her senses Arabelle wiped her brow.

"That was beautiful, would you sing another?" She asked quietly.

Teague's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you come over here and I'll teach you."

Arabelle longed to jump up and go to him but she paused, reigning in her emotion, and shook her head instead.

"No, I couldn't. You sing beautifully."

Teague stood and went to her, pulling her to her feet he took her chair and pulled her down on his lap, laying the guitar over her knee he lifted her fingers to the strings and rested his face alongside the crook of her neck.

"There now." Teague took her hands and laid his over them. "As I touch each finger you push down on the strings."

Arabelle gulped, her fingers trembling, she felt her skin gooseflesh as Teague's breath heated her neck. She closed her eyes and tried to focus but she lost her way in the confusion of Teague's breath on her neck and his fingers on hers which produced one very sad and quaky verse.

Teague chuckled. "Not very good are you?"

Arabelle tried to exhale a smile but only succeeded in trembling. Teague pulled back and moved his hands off hers, ready to let her have her way and admit defeat but she quickly stopped him.

"No, I'd like to try again."

Teague smirked and regained his previous position, patiently guiding her through the cords until she got it right. Arabelle smiled and although she was doing quite well she fumbled only to feel Teague's hands guiding her once again.

"You've played before."

"No I haven't, I've never-"

"Look."

Arabelle looked down and cursed herself, she was playing the cords without his help. Immediately she came to a fumbling stop and closed her eyes cursing such unguarded stupidity.

"Where did you learn?"

"I never did."

"Luv?"

Arabelle sighed. "My brother played a little. He taught me only a few cords a long time ago. I thought I had forgotten them."

"Apparently not." Teague replied with an edge of mockery but feeling her shoulders involuntarily sag he smiled. "Play me what you learned."

"It's not much."

"It sounded beautiful." Teague urged her, whispering against her neck.

Arabelle took a jagged breath and wracked her memory. Hesitantly placing her fingers upon the strings she began, slowly plucking the strings filling the room with a sad bittersweet melody. As she played, Teague listened patiently, recalling this melody as a song he too learned a long time ago, he smirked as she played the chorus for the second time and lightly planted a kiss on her neck. Causing a shiver Teague smirked and continued until Arabelle's hands trembled far to much on the strings to make any melody. And, then, abandoning the song she turned and meet his eyes as her lips met his.

Knowing there was nothing to stop them now Teague, as his lips feasted on hers, gingery set the guitar down against the chair and scooped Belle up in his arms. Carrying her across the room, as if she weighed nothing, to his cabin he pushed the door shut with his foot behind them.

* * *

Arabelle moaned herself awake the next morning to find herself alone in Teague's bed. Without a hitch of concern Arabelle smiled to herself, sighed and pulled the covers up around her for warmth. Remembering tender caresses, tanned skin and tattoos Arabelle moaned with pleasure and stretched herself out across the bed.

Contrary to the countless lectures about virtue and the sermons on the ultimate sins of wantonness Arabelle actually felt quite wonderful. She didn't feel like her soul had just been damned for all eternity, nor did she feel guilty and or used. She was content, which was shocking for her, even though she now lay alone. She didn't know where Teague was but she was too tired to care. Snuggling back down into the covers, knowing all was well and real, Arabelle willed herself back into blissful dreams of sunshine, wine and two silhouette's on an empty beach.

- - -

Sometime later being shaken from her slumber by voices Arabelle wretched the blankets up over her and peered cautiously at the door as it opened. Sighing and relaxing at the sight of just Teague, still only clad in trousers, entering bearing food and drink Belle smiled. Immediately her stomach growled appreciatively. Shutting the door behind him Teague slid into bed next to Arabelle and setting everything else aside to forgo the immediate sharing food for a kiss.

Arabelle smiled against his lips as he cradled her neck with his strong hand but pulled away to look into his eyes for a hint of the nature of his thoughts. All she saw however made her feel a wash of warmth and affection for this man. She gave him a peck and held the sheets tightly across her chest as she peered over him for something to eat.

Leaning nearly over him, overcome by appetite Arabelle pouted as Teague moved into her path but relented as he pushed her back and leaned over her. Like they had been here, doing this for years, Arabelle just looked up at him with a mixture of hunger and fascination. There was something about him that made such an unforgivable sin, as being here with him, taste so sweet. She wanted to kiss him again. And again.

"What did you bring?"

Teague turned and then faced her, holding an apple wedge before her lips, tempting her. Taking it gently from his fingers with her teeth Arabelle chewed delightfully, her eyes locked on his.

She had forgotten how wonderful fresh apples tasted. Then again, maybe it was just the situation that made them taste to delectable. Arabelle held Teague's gaze before taking the next bite and thinking briefly on just what had happened last night and where that left her. Her eyes flickering across his face and the charisma in his eyes she smiled brightly, lifting her face for another kiss. She didn't regret one moment of it.

Eating several pieced and drinking a good half a cup of rum Arabelle laid back into the pillows and looked over at Teague, propped up against the wall finishing off the mug of rum with relish. Breathing in deeply, the scent of sea air and sun that seemed to be imprinted on his skin, Arabelle's stomach knotted.

To her, her thoughts seemed positively idiotic and sappy but _was there another man like this… anywhere_? She didn't dare think of wanting to find out. Just weeks, days ago she had mercilessly hated him with all her being but now she actually enjoyed his company, his touch. It seemed wrong, for all her life she had hated the thought of a woman needing a man yet here she was… needing this man, his smile… his voice.

Arabelle suddenly felt the urge to scream but it was then that Teague looked down at her, abandoned his cup of rum and pulled her close. Arabelle laid her head against his chest without question and closed her eyes, feeling once more the sudden desire to sleep. She had never known this sensation before, but there was no comparison for the comfort sleeping in another's arms brought.

- - -

Teague laid silently for hours with Arabelle sleeping in his arms, just stroking her arm or fondling her thin fingers. He stared at the ceiling, he stared at the door, and he stared at her. She woke periodically but they never spoke. Both Arabelle and Teague felt touched by each moment. They would kiss, they would touch or just stare at each other. It was so new. Teague had never felt anything so touching, so innocent than this time with Arabelle. It was surprising with her, having such a powerful character but he could see the change in her eyes. If it was anxiety or acceptance he did not know but it was soothing.

A muted knock brought Teague back to the present. It was coming from the door into the great room but he knew it must have been important. He had made it clear he was to have no interruptions. Teague slid from the bed, without disturbing Arabelle, threw a shirt over his shoulders and exited the cabin as Madrid came walking in.

"What is it?" Teague asked pouring himself a glass of wine with a steady frown.

Madrid curiously eyed Teague's thrown together apparel but said nothing on the matter.

"Captain we've spotted land but we-"

"Teague, where-"

Teague and Madrid turned to see Arabelle standing in the doorway, wrapped in a sheet.

Upon seeing Madrid, Arabelle turned as white as the sheet and stood stock still. Teague turned his eyes back to Madrid, stern but seemingly not fazed by the awkward moment.

"What?"

Madrid looked from Teague to Belle and back then shook his head.

"Take it up with Gabriel."

"Aye captain." Madrid nodded and left the cabin without another word, forgetting completely the reason he had entered in the first place.

Arabelle watched him go, covering her face shamefully and turned away. Teague kept his place, wine in hand, until Madrid had gone then he went into the cabin to see Arabelle. She sat on the bed with her head in her hands. Seeing her sitting there, looking small, he knew the peacefulness was gone. Teague sat down next to her and handed her the wine, which she took and sipped without a word. Emptying the glass in a few short moments Teague reached to take the glass from her when she suddenly kissed him.

Surprised by this Teague cupped her chin in his hand, trying and cool her passion- knowing it was only an impulse to quell nerves- but it was useless. In a moment they were in each other's arms again, drowning in each other's souls until Arabelle finally relented her fight and took a painful breath, laying her forehead on Teague's chest.

"You okay?" he asked gently, knowing she was tired both physically and emotionally.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Arabelle closed her eyes. "Yes."

Teague wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Teague?"

"Aye?"

"How many women have you brought aboard the _Bough_?"

"None."

Arabelle was silent.

"Luv, are you sure nothing's bothering-"

"Why are you alone?"

"I'm not." he replied softly.

"Why was there no one here with you before? Why were you alone."

"I can't be alone if I want to?" he asked with amusement but he wasn't smiling. He wasn't even close.

Arabelle pulled back and looked him deeply in the eye. "Teague. You're an amazing man… you deserve to have a strong woman by your side. Why don't you-"

Teague lifted her chin and kissed her compassionately on the lips.

"No man walks alone by choice." he whispered breaking the kiss.

Arabelle stroked Teague's jaw and smiled despite the desire she had to shed a tear for such a reply.

"Besides." He continued. "If there was another woman here we wouldn't be."

Arabelle laid her hand across his neck and inched herself closer, shivers running up and down her spine.

"Teague?"

"Aye." Teague replied, sliding his hands across her bareback with gentleness.

"I've given you my innocence." She replied, whispering the reality with acceptance.

Teague laid his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers.

"I know."

Arabelle closed her eyes. Tired and uncertain about the future but more uncertain if it even mattered thus far.

"Pidge?" Teague whispered to her, now once more on the edge of sleep.

"Mmm?"

"Stay."

Arabelle opened her eyes but didn't move. Tears filled her eyes as she squeezed his hand and didn't say a word. Closing her eyes again she slept with her head on his chest dreaming about the past but seeing only his face.

* * *

The next morning Arabelle dressed and left the cabin with confidence. Teague had left earlier to take the helm, guiding the ship into the harbour at Fort Dauphin, leaving Arabelle to face fate on her own. The first thing Arabelle did was get to work. She didn't want to create the impression she was simply here for the benefit of Teague, and with more crewmembers returning after a month or so absence, Arabelle didn't want to create any bad first impressions.

So spending the morning down in Samuel's cabin she worked hard to catch up with her work. He didn't ask her where she had been but for some reason Arabelle could tell he knew. That however did not change anything. They both worked diligently, talking freely about their work and their destination until Samuel was summoned to the main deck.

Having no work without Samuel, Arabelle left the cabin and went down to the galley hoping to talk with Thomas. It felt so long since she had been working beside him. So entering the cabin she nodded to Jamie and Dominic playing dice in the corner and went directly to the kitchen door. Knocking twice she entered and greeted the steamy atmosphere with a smile. She swore a twenty degree change in temperature hit you just by stepping over the threshold but she didn't care.

"Why if it isn't skirt." Thomas smiled, facing her with a grin and wiping his hands on his apron before he gave her a quick peck as he moved for a rattling pot on the stove.

"Hello Thomas. How are things with you down here?"

"Busy as usual. What brings you all the way back to the bottom?"

Arabelle plunked herself on a stool, grabbed a lone knife by a pile of carrots and started chopping.

"I had some free time and just felt like coming down to catch up."

Thomas threw his cloth over his shoulder and leaned against the counter, whisking a bowl of batter as he looked across at her with a dark look of curiosity playing across his eyes.

"This have anythin' to do with those in positions of authority?"

Arabelle narrowly missed chopping off the end of her finger. Jumping back her eyes shot to his.

"I don't under-" She fumbled.

"No need to be coy darlin'. I know all about your new _friendship_." Thomas smiled with raised brows.

"If Madrid said a word-… did he tell you?"

"Ohoo. Calm down darlin'. Your wiry ally didn't say a word."

Arabelle took a breath and went back to chopping, slowly this time, with care.

"Then how did you find out?"

"I may be only a cook but I have been privileged to have both eyes and ears luv."

Arabelle blushed. "Sorry Thomas. I just don't think I'm ready to have all of this out in the open."

"That's fine. Enjoy it."

Arabelle smiled but still endured the heat of her blush. "Thank you."

"No worries darlin'." Thomas turned and filled three bread pans and then shot them into the hot oven. "But now that I know and you know I know.."

Arabelle raised the knife, her brow arching. "If you finish that sentence I swear I'll poke this blade in a very uncomfortable spot."

Thomas laughed heartily, wiping the cloth from his shoulder and pulling a pot off the heat with it's protection. Moving another into it's place he turned and smirked.

"Alright. I won't ask."

Arabelle nodded, content and went back to her work.

"Just know that I'm dieing to." Thomas finished with a smirk.

Arabelle scoffed with a smile and shook her head as she finished off the carrots and leaned back.

"I'm sure you are. Just please don't discus it with your customers."

"And if by some chance that customer is the captain himself…?"

Arabelle frowned instantly. "Don't you dare."

Thomas laughed, shrugging it off as he scooped up the chopped vegetables at the end of her knife and dropped them into a large pot.

"Don't know want to know what he has to say about it?"

"I've already heard." Arabelle said holding her lips tight to keep from smiling. "_All_ morning."

Raising a brow at Thomas' smirk she slid off the stool and stuck the knife in the cutting board.

"Not a word to anyone Thomas. I mean it." she warned

"I'll be as silent as the grave."

Arabelle nodded. "You better. … and if you see that traitor send him my way so I can slap him."

"Will do."

Arabelle nodded once more with a smile. "Till the next round of gossip then."

- - - -

For the entirety of the day Arabelle kept away from Teague and his position on deck. Luckily the men were distracted with the goings on, on and off the ship, so it offered her some privacy but no sooner had she made her dive into her cabin there was a knock at the door.

Opening it, expecting another request from the captain, Arabelle was surprised to find Madrid standing quietly before her. For a very short moment, standing there so solemnly, she could have sworn she was back on the _Mary Eliza _with another man at her door.

"Madrid." She smiled quickly and stepped aside. "Won't you come in?"

Madrid smiled but did not move. "Captain want's to see you in his cabin immediately."

"I'll come directly." Arabelle moved to pull the door shut immediately to go to Teague's side but Madrid smiled, halting her movement with suspicion. As his smile spread across his face Arabelle knew he was lying, and holding back a smile she swatted him.

"Madrid you… he didn't ask for me did he?" she laughed with smiling eyes.

Madrid chuckled. "No. I just wanted to see you're face."

Arabelle frowned at his antics but the amiable splendour shinning from her eyes could not be hidden.

"Now I don't think I'll invite you in."

"Oh come now Belle, I promise I won't make fun." Madrid raised his right hand in oath but he couldn't stop his grin.

Arabelle exhaled a laugh and beckoned him inside despite all else. "Very well, but I'll hold you to that."

"I'll be the soul of discretion."

Arabelle smiled, heartily at ease by his light heartedness. She valued his friendship very highly and was glad he was here, indifferent to the state he had discovered her earlier. When Madrid was around, smiles or not, Arabelle felt like Daniel was near and it lifted her spirits so. She needed him more than he could know.

"So." Madrid smiled.

"So what?"

Madrid raised his brow, smirking like a brazen child. Arabelle exhaled a laugh, knowing exactly what he meant.

"It's none of your business Madrid." She reminded him solidly.

"Aye, it is none of my business but I didn't ask."

"Not with that mouth of yours but you _did_ ask."

Madrid smirked and nodded. "Okay. … so I did. Can I ask you something else then? ..not in line with how I found out."

"That depends." Arabelle replied cautiously.

"Does this mean you're going to stay?"

Arabelle lowered her eyes, fighting to keep the smile from her lips she turned her face away from him but Madrid caught it and smiled broadly.

"You are aren't you?"

Arabelle met his eyes, her smile slipping out of grasp and lighting up her face. She nodded and Madrid's expectant smile broke into a charming grin.

Returning to the main deck together, Madrid beaming with the prospect of shore leave with his little dependent he demanded from Gabriel that she accompany him, which was agreed upon quite readily. Gabriel disliked Madrid and knew there were be much annoyance if he did not relent. So charging the two young people with the freeness to leave the ship on liberty he grumbled his way across the deck, jealous of their granted request and their limitless joviality.

"So where shall we go?" Madrid asked stepped off the gangplank.

"Something fun." Arabelle smiled, catching the breeze and sunshine on her face with delight.

"Should I go back and get Teague?"

Arabelle's shoulders sagged but she did smile, right before she elbowed him in the ribs.

"Would you just stop!"

Madrid chuckled, jumping aside for safety. "Alright. Alright!"

"Joking aside I'd really like to get to know some of the new crewmembers though. I don't want them to look down upon me when they come aboard."

Madrid thrust his hands in his pockets and smiled. "You're in no danger of that. All the crewmen that are rejoining us over today and tomorrow are family men. You've nothing to fear in line with them. You've already conquered us all Belle, just by surviving those you've been around for a month."

"I don't know."

Madrid nudged her and smiled. "What have you got to be afraid of?"

"What if they think I'm just here as… just for Teague?"

Madrid wanted to smirk but the pitiful look on Arabelle's face prevented him from doing so. Throwing his arm around her shoulder he smiled down at her, raising her chin with his thumb.

"They'll see your not, just like everyone else does."

Arabelle smiled, leaning into Madrid's arm with appreciation. She felt better with his arm around her and his infectious smile, and although she felt wholly reluctant to believe him she felt better he believed it.


	36. Swords and Nuptials

:Hello all! Here is the next section that I've promised... though maybe later than I hoped but I promise the next will follow in exactly one month if not sooner.

This chapter is, I think, a little different than previous but I hope you like in none the same. Remember please review and enjoy!

* * *

Arabelle returned to the _Ash Bough _in a glow of a cloudless sunset, with the wind blowing her hair and tugging at her shirts she paused by the pier and looked out over the empty beach dwarfed by the tall ships bobbing yards away.

It was a beautiful sight of quietness and beauty away from the swarms of people so, glancing over her shoulder and finding no one remotely near to her, Arabelle slipped off the dock and stepped onto the coarse sand. It had been a long time since she had stepped foot on a beach and now, alone, she wanted to enjoy the experience with time and pleasure on her side. So, slipping off her shoes she cast them onto the sand next to the pier, gathered her skirt in her hand and headed off down the bare beach.

Back home Arabelle had lived by the sea and had made walking down the beach a daily task with her mother to discuss the events of the day. She spent much of her time with her brother but this time she had especially spent with her mother. It had been a very long time indeed since she had done it but it wasn't until now, walking on unfamiliar sand on a beach thousands of miles from her childhood home, did she realize just how much she had loved those moments. How much she had taken them for granted and now how she missed them.

Belle walked on, trying to suppress her involuntary urge to openly weep over the death of her parents; a tragic event that had happened years ago, when she turned to the ocean and spotted the _Bough_ at the end of the longest pier. Upon seeing it Arabelle abruptly sat down in the sand and stared at it's black silhouette with a deep shaky sigh of mixed emotion.

It felt like a calming sight, bobbing gently in the darkening water, but also as a sudden painful stab to the soul. She knew her parents would not approve of her current associates and she knew Daniel would be appalled at his little sister's future tied in with these men but she felt she had no choice. There was no way for her to survive without them, that was the truth, and it wasn't all that bad. They were like a band of benevolent outlaws- they may have had rough exteriors but they were gentle men. Skilled and dangerous but misunderstood gentlemen and she would bear it.

Arabelle picked herself up with a sigh. She had wasted enough time here on her own and now needed to get back before it got dark. Dragging herself back up the beach, laden with heavy emotional baggage she failed to notice the rising tide, which resulted in soaking a good six inches of her skirts. Grumbling about her stupidity in even stepping foot on this beach for it had done her no good she continued on to the pier shaking her skirts out only to find her shoes missing from their place.

Now, thoroughly angry, Arabelle climbed the rickety ladder in her heavy wet skirt and bare feet to come face to face with busy crowds of fun seeking people swarming about the dusk like flies around a carcass. People whom proved to be very interested in her trials.

Stumbling, finally some time later, onto the deck of the _Bough_ Arabelle tripped at the end of the gangplank and sprawled face first towards the deck but was caught at the very last second. Without even offering a mention of thanks she turned her face to the deck and snarled.

"Bloody plank."

Arabelle turned to Teague, looking rather concerned as she steadied herself but growled openly in his face. "When are you going to fix that bloody thing?"

"_When_?"

"I've told you a hundred times to fix that stupid thing, why haven't' you fixed it yet?"

"You've never-"

"Well I am now! Fix it!"

Teague frowned, distain washing over his face but not being able to usurp the concern in his eyes.

"What happened?"

"What _happened_?" Belle groaned, a look of pure cat like wildness darting across her eyes. "I went for a walk the beach."

"That doesn't-"

"I was half drenched by the bloody tide, someone stole my shoes, I was then surrounded and visually fondled by half a dozen scruffy shop keepers, offered ten pounds to accompany a man to his room, grabbed by a suave fifteen year old, I stepped on a nail, got lost on the pier, stepped in bucket of fish, and tripped on your bloody gangplank!"

Teague bit his tongue, his desire to smirk at what an ordeal she had just been through, and just stared at her as she began to shake and then hyperventilate- resembling an action that looked a great deal like an overstressed type of weeping.

"And on… on top of that… my… my parents are… dead." she gasped, now overcome with more sorrow than anger.

"Luv they've been dead for-"

"Don't-" She cried, her knees crumbling.

"Oh no." Teague frowned as he caught her once more and slipped his arm around her waist, mentally running through the instances he could have forwent to have avoided this situation and what an ass he was for getting involved. Arabelle however wouldn't budge, she pushed Teague away, suddenly regaining her footing and an icy glare.

"Don't touch me. I don't need-"

"I think you do." Teague retorted, returning her cold glare with a dark frown of his own. He took hold of her again but she resisted.

"I said don't touch me!"

The men on deck glanced in their direction, torn between the cry of a woman and the glare of their captain. It was the latter that made them slink back into an nearby shadow, but it didn't quell their desires to eagerly see this through. A few bold men held their positions and just stood fast to watch from a distance, but a few surely did regret it when Arabelle lashed out at them.

"What are you looking at? Don't you have better things to do like your work? Well you can come and-"

"That's it." Teague stepped forward, seized Arabelle, threw her over his shoulder and carried her protesting, writhing body into his cabin, slamming the door behind them with such force that the bottles in his cabinet across the room shook, making a faint clinking hardly heard over Arabelle's cursing.

- - -

Carrying her straight into his cabin Teague dropped her onto the bed and left the room, closing it behind him and locking the door. It took Arabelle a moment but soon enough she was pounding on the door with all her might, cursing and adapting any degrading comment to him. That however did not faze Teague, he simply went to his cabinet selected a strong bottle of Port and after taking a drink himself poured a glass, set in on the desk and sat at his desk quietly sipping at his own until the pounding stopped.

Groaning and shedding his jacket Teague picked up the glass, went to the door, unlocked it and let himself in to find Arabelle laying on the bed, hugging the pillow and sobbing quietly. Without uttering a word Teague handed her the glass and waited as she lifted herself up to her elbow and took a sip.

Then, massaging his forehead Teague lowered himself down to the bed and unbuttoned the top button of his waistcoat as he leaning over her legs, waited for her to finish. Arabelle drank slowly but halfway through the glass she handed it off to Teague, as her tears had stopped and she no longer looked like a soggy mess of emotion. Downing the remainder of the Port in a single mouthful, he set the glass aside and placed his hand on her calf.

"I thought I told you not to go into any port alone." he said gently making sympathetic eye contact.

"I wasn't alone. I was ow! Don't touch my foot, it hurts." Arabelle flinched, jumping forward to move Teague's hand from her foot.

"What happened?" Teague frowned, pulling back her skirt to reveal a very scratched and grubby foot.

"Don't touch!" Belle cried, flinching her foot away from him but not succeeding.

Teague grasped her ankle, turning her foot with a disappointed groan.

"Luv, what the hell did you do?"

"Nothing. I told you, I stepped on a nail in a bucket and ran down the pier in bare feet."

Sighing, Teague left the cabin without offering anything but a frown in her direction, leaving Arabelle to groan about her aching foot and her irritable man.

Returning in a few moments, with a few rags in hand, Teague sat at the end of the bed and lifted Arabelle's feet into his la and despite all protests he washed her feet, wiping them clean with a warm wet rag.

She watched Teague wash her feet with delicacy and felt utterly relaxed by his gentle touch. Pulling the pillow to her chest and hugging it, Arabelle watched his fingers smoothly rub the grit and blood from her heel. Although the action of washing someone's feet did seem rather distasteful she didn't feel at all self-conscience- it was actually quite calming.

"I told you not to go alone." Teague repeated, massaging her foot and glancing up at her as he worked his fingers around the ball of her foot.

"I was with Madrid." Arabelle replied gently, her eyes hooded with tranquility.

"Where is he then?"

"Gone."

"Where?" Teague asked more firmly.

Belle sighed. "He's trying to get Watson out of jail."

Teague frowned darkly as he massaged the pad of her foot. "What for?"

"Why is Watson's in jail or why is Madrid trying to bail him out?"

Teague refused to reply, leaving Belle to frown and wiggle her toes.

"Watson had an unpleasant run-in with a former _friend_ and her father." Arabelle smiled across at Teague knowingly but was not returned with the like. "Something about him running out on an engagement? I'm not sure but Madrid seemed to think it was forgivable."

Teague scoffed. "He would."

"Why? Watson surely deserves the misfortunes of his actions."

"Aye but an unnerving amount of misdirected loyalty runs in that lad's veins."

Arabelle chuckled gently, tapping his leg with her foot as she smiled up at him until the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile and he finished up with her foot, wrapping it in a long length of white cloth. Arabelle smiled and sat up, leaning forward to Teague with lowered eyes.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Teague gave a shallow nod and watched her face closely, now relaxed though still rather red eyed from tears. Raising his hand and trailing his thumb across her jaw he watched as Belle's eyes shot up and met his. Holding each other's gaze a moment Arabelle smiled ever so slightly as she moved her face forward, allowing Teague's hand to move from her jaw to the nape of her neck and pull her face in close, planting a gentle kiss upon her lips.

Sliding his lips from hers Teague brushed his fingers down her neck and kissed her jaw before pulling away, looking her in the eye a long moment until she gave him a smile and then stood. Gathering up the rags and wine glass about the room as Arabelle looked on she grew distressed as he made a move to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Arabelle asked as he stepped over the threshold.

"You should rest."

"You can't stay?"

"I've got work to do."

"Can't it wait? Even a little while?"

Teague paused, passing a look between them both. "No."

Arabelle didn't want to play the female card but she desperately wanted him to stay so she shifted over and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Not even for me?"

"No."

Belle frowned and, utterly cut by such a cool brush off, sat up and lifted herself off the cot.

"Then what's the point in me even staying here."

"To rest. I told you. Now lay back down."

"No."

"Luv, if you don't-"

"Don't patronize me." Arabelle frowned dimly.

"If I talk down to you it's because you're acting like a child."

"I'm hurt." Belle defended.

"I don't care if you were missing a limb. If you had listened to me you wouldn't have gotten into this situation."

"Wouldn't… if I had gone with Madrid you think everything would be fine? Surely the prison is a much rougher place than the docks."

"There are no iron bars protecting you here _sweetheart_."

Arabelle flinched.

"From now on you are not to leave the ship without myself or Basile accompanying you."

"What?" Arabelle exclaimed. "You can't dictate orders like that to me! You have no right-"

"I have every right."

Arabelle scowled but didn't say a word. She could not dispute that remark for he was right-he did have every right but she would not flatter his pride and admit it. Watching him quietly holding fast to his authority and it's power, however, Arabelle suddenly found herself in a hard position. It was the very place many women had unwillingly found themselves- forced into submission by a man and the lawfully enforced rules of compliance.

Arabelle's chest tightened as the anger in her eyes slowly abated to be replaced with the sorrow of defeat. No matter how much heel digging she had done on this matter it didn't seem to be of any use now. All those feelings fled as she looked at Teague through broken eyes. She _was_ a helpless lost girl as she met his eyes now. She became like all those women, helpless and hopeless. The idea was hard to swallow but it was true and unlike these women forced into submission through treats and hatred Belle was forced into this position through respect and adoration. She would all that she could for this man and it wasn't until now that she realized it.

- - - - - - - -

Arabelle laid down in her cabin a short time later and did as she was bidden- rest. She did not, however, forget the startling revelation she had thrust upon her in the presence of Teague moments before. It was startling but as she lay alone she found it hard to refute or even regret it as she found herself missing him and his good favour. They had not parted on good terms but Belle was determined to make it up as soon as possible.

- - -

Teague on the other hand did not dwell on the heated exchange between himself and Arabelle but rather on a very juvenile minded member of his crew. Immediately after sending Belle below decks, Teague hastily laid charge of this ship in Gabriel's care and went off to the fort prison to settle matters once and for all.

Coming up to the prison entrance Teague stopped at a little alcove room housing a short plump man at a desk and ruddy faced soldier at the door. Teague approached the desk and the gentleman behind it, tipping his hat lightly.

"May I help you sir?" The man asked kindly, readjusting his spectacles with ink stained fingertips.

"A man came through here not long ago to bail another out. Both young and shabby."

"If you know the crime of imprisonment I may be able to help you."

"Failure to commit."

The man behind the desk grinned knowingly. "That one. Yes, he's here, but not for long. The fine against him is being paid as we speak."

"The price?"

"You have an intimate interest in the case?"

"They are my men, under my command upon my ship." Teague replied raising his chin slightly.

"I see." The man turned to his papers and shifted through them, trailing his finger down the columns. "Here we are. The young Mr. Locke. A hundred and fifty pound."

Teague's jaw clenched but he didn't say a word as he reached into his pocket and pulled out two coins, dropped them onto the desk before the man, tipped his hat and left.

- - -

Coming out not ten minutes later Watson was the picture of joviality with his loyal mate at his side. Joking and sunning, Watson made clear breast of the fact that he was heartily glad of life and friendship until a shadow at the archway caught his eye. It was Teague, standing in the shade waiting for them. Immediately Watson's demeanour changed but he could not escape, nor could he try an wheedle his way out of this- Teague could smell fear and did not look upon it with sympathy.

Watson and Madrid walked up to Teague and nodded in sync.

"Captain." They both remarked with respect.

"Lad- to the ship." Teague replied darkly, looking around the dusty yard.

"Captain I-"

"Now."

Madrid took a sharp breath. "Aye captain."

Bowing his head Madrid slunk away like a dog with it's tail between his legs but cast a sympathetic look over his shoulder once out of Teague's line of sight. Watson only gulped dryly looking rather wide eyed at his captain.

"Captain, this isn't how it-"

Teague raised his eyes to his and cut him off short with a quick flare of his nostrils. Watson bit his tongue as Teague raised his hand motioning to something behind him.

"I believe you know this man."

Watson turned cautiously and chocked on his breath as he recognized the man approaching. Watson quickly turned to Teague- who stood fast with no visible motive but justice- and gaped.

"I-"

"You and he have a lot to discuss."

- - - - - - -

The ship was still rather quiet later that afternoon, the crew either still on liberty or now snug undercover from the rain that had soon began to fall in sheets upon the town. Only Gabriel and a few men manned the main deck clothed in oilskins and drearily shielding what part of them they could as the rains washed over them.

Below decks many of the crew took this time to rest and enjoy some relaxation. A few men sat in the corner of the main hold for a game of dice where as the others stood about and watched. A few others sat around the tables in the galley with a pint of ale or bumbo. Typical of their freedom, Hunter and the lads sat there as well, enjoying trivial conversation and jests until Jamie came tearing in; sopping wet exclaiming over heaven and hell- or something of the sort.

Jamie caught sight of his friends and immediately ran to them, coming to a sliding stop as he wiped his dripping hair from his forehead and declared

"He's getting' married!"

All the lads exchanged looks, most out of minimal interest but a few of discomforting surprise. It was not them who spoke though but Thomas, cursing from the door of his kitchen.

"You'd better not be dripping Master Hunt. 'Cause if you are I'll tie you up from the riggin' meself, no care to what the captain has to say on the matter!"

"He's getting' married!" Jamie yelled at him with fervour, but Thomas didn't show much interest beyond his floor.

"Jamie!" Hunter exclaimed.

"Good for him, but you're mopping that floor!"

"Fine!" Jamie yelled to Thomas with finality as he turned and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"_Scrap_!"

Jamie turned back to his mates and met Phillips' eyes.

"Who's enterin' the hellish wedded bliss?"

"Watson!"

"What?" Hunter exclaimed as Avery and Madrid exchanged concerned frowns and Phillips scoffed loudly- as was his custom.

"You're wrong." Phillips defended.

"Ney. I 'eard Hudson say it 'imself. He says the captain's set on it."

"When?" Dominic inquired.

"Tomorrow."

Phillips snorted once more. "Watson is never going to follow through on this. You all know what happened last time."

"Aye but this time it seems he's run out _too_ many times." Avery frowned.

"You can never ru-"

"But their is." Jamie interrupted. "Hudson says the captain found out about Watson runnin' out on this girl and now he's makin' him marry her. He's even got 'im watched until after the weddin', until we shove off."

"That doesn't sound like the captain." Hunter remarked uncertainly.

"It isn't." Madrid retorted.

"Watch yourself Madrid." Avery cautioned. "We all know Watson's never been in great favour with the captain since he was caught with those women on board. This is his own fault."

"But making someone marry when they don't want to doesn't seem fair, nor a duty of a fair captain." Hunter offered in aid to the argument.

"Teague's fair." Avery retorted with severe loyalty. "He has our best interests at heart. Always. Watson's been running this game for too long, it's time he takes responsibility for his actions."

Avery turned to Madrid, he knew he was loyal to Teague in earnest but this was an unexpected turn he saw in his friend and it was unsettling.

"That doesn't answer to it." Phillips sat up with a frown. "A man should have the freedom to-"

"Shut it Phillips." Madrid remarked suddenly, standing with abrupt swiftness. "The captain has given his order, maybe not to us but to one of us and it's not our place to question any order. Watson will marry the girl- that's all- it has nothing to do with us. Just leave it alone."

With that Madrid left the table and stocked out of the room much to the surprise of his fellow men. They watched him go but made no effort to chase after him, it was a tense time and, all could feel the difference in the air but matters were not on Madrid now they were on another.

"You think he'll be different? Being married and all?" Jamie asked after Madrid had left and then men fell to talking once again.

"Watson. You kidding?" Hunter chuckled as Phillips snorted with humour.

"He's Watson, he'll never change, no matter how many wives and brats 'e has."

- - - - - - - -

Arabelle woke at dawn the next morning and pensively remained under the warm covers as she listened to the waves lapping and men laughing. Staring up at the ceiling with a blank look Arabelle thought back to her exchange with Teague the night before. She had a quick temper by nature but she regretted her thread bare emotions lately when it came to him- for it always left her feeling small.

Truth was Arabelle knew why she was feeling extra snappish and she dreaded the thought of being in such a place with such company during such a time. As she thought about it Arabelle was nervous even thinking of asking for the things she would need in the next week and thus mentally went about creating a plan of action to conquer that fear out of shear need.

First she would need to some rags and a place to bathe, then she would need some food and drink stashed in her cabin to ward off cramps. Finally she would need to create an excuse to beg off from work for at least a day without arousing suspicion. How she would accomplish all this she did not know but necessity forced her to attempt it.

Arabelle smiled as she rolled herself out of her cot and planted her feet on the cold floor with a shiver. She still dreaded the natural process women viewed more as a curse than a blessing. She had no objections to raise against the miracle of child bearing but the effect it had on her was defiantly not an appealing quality of her character. She would try in earnest to keep her nerves restrained but she had a gnawing feeling that certain persons would make such a struggle an even greater fight.

Shedding her nightgown and slipping on her new favourite green chemise of deep forest green, Arabelle quickly tied back her hair and ventured out into the corridor first to find something warm and hearty for breakfast and then to deal with the first stop on her list, Mr. Fennel.

Satisfied a short time later by a steaming bowl of porridge and a large mug of tea, Arabelle made her way down the corridor to Mr. Fennel's cabin- which served more as an office than anything. Finding him, as always, hard at work in his little hid-away-hole of a desk Arabelle gave him a smile from the door.

"Morning Mr. Fennel."

"Good morning Miss Sparrow." Fennel replied with a courtly smile as he rose to his feet and bowed his head slightly in her direction. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

"I thought I'd come by and see how you're getting on."

"Tolerably well, tolerably well. Thank you. The captain made brief mention of a wounded foot, are you at all recovered?"

"It is still tender but much better, thank you."

"Shall I send for Mr. Walters? Would it be of any comfort?"

"No, no, I am quite able to limp about on my own." Arabelle said with a smile. "The captain assured me it would right itself soon enough. I would hate to be a senseless bother to a busy man. …Which reminds me, I came with a question for you."

"Yes Miss Sparrow?"

"Do you have any linen or cotton material on hand, I want to try my hand at sewing- see if I remember how, you know."

"Of course. If you'll wait here?"

Arabelle nodded and Fennel disappeared through the opposite door off his cabin as he motioned to an empty chair by her side. Arabelle took it gratefully and waited patiently- pleased with her successful cover up. Returning in a few short moments with a large book sized packet wrapped in brown paper and a small packed of needles and spool of tread, Mr. Fennel handed them over without the slightest hindrance. Truthfully Belle was surprised to find such things on a ship such as this but sensible Fennel read her surprise and smiled as she arranged them in her grasp.

"Be sure Mr. Walters does not catch sight of you with these, it has been a keen task of his to liberate them from my room for his own use."

Arabelle chuckled. "I'll be sure to keep them under lock and key, you needn't worry. Though I would hate to take something you will be sorry to part with."

"Oh no, please, take them and make good use of them. They were purchased for the task of mending the captain's clothing but as you may have noticed he is hardly ever in need of aid in that respect."

"Yes, I have noticed." Arabelle replied with some awkwardness- she knew all too well. "Has he always been like that?"

"Oh yes indeed miss. As long as I have known him, even before my employment there had been comments made on the subject. Many thought him the best dressed among his circle since the days of Captain Henry Morgan, though I am no authority on such things."

Arabelle smiled to herself, thinking on each day she had seen him, even at their first meeting plagued with fright he had looked well in her eyes. It took longer to discover the real beauty within him but he defiantly was a handsome man to the eyes. She had not met many a man that possessed his easy charisma and natural good looks, even with their pounds of gold and silk.

"Miss Sparrow?"

Arabelle turned to Mr. Fennel in half a mind, longing to be in Teague's company, her stomach churning to taste his soul and thudding in her chest to see his eyes gazing into the depth of her soul without prejudice.

"Yes?" She asked, nearly out of breath by her own thoughts.

"Are you quite well, you look rather flushed?"

"I am well." Arabelle managed to reply steadily. "I must be off though, I have taken up enough of your valuable time. Thank you for your help."

"It was my pleasure." Fennel nodded and watched Arabelle depart, quite worried in actuality for her health, so much so that he decided to bring up the matter with the captain as soon as he was able.

- - -

Mr. Fennel stood ramp rod stiff before Teague not half an hour later- being beaconed to pick up some papers- but he took this opportunity to make his sentiments known about their female passenger.

"All I am saying sir is I am concerned for her well being. I hope you are not exhausting her."

Teague sat before him still stretching script across the page in an old ledger, looking as if he didn't care two shillings for the words his steward had to say but truly was listening to every word and as good as Fennel was he could see that.

"Perhaps it is merely not understanding her distinction between your crew but by all means captain I do not think we aught to be working her so hard."

"If you are trying to allude that I have no problem in working women you are correct, but I do see the difference, Mr. Fennel, between this girl and my crewmen." Teague said briskly as he closed the ledger, pushing it aside but still kept his quill to paper, not giving Fennel anything more than a quick passing glance.

"I did not mean it in the sense of ignorance, do not think I would even think-"

"Then what did you mean? I choose _not_ to see?" Teague asked, setting the quill back in it's place and sitting back with a wash of arrogance in his movements.

"I believe you're strong views on men and women are very much out of place with this delicate woman." Fennel replied truthfully, causing Teague to raise his brow at the man's impertinence.

Teague, letting a moment creep past them to satisfy Mr. Fennel's pride, raised his chin ever so slightly causing Fennel to lower his- knowing he had stepped over the line.

"Your concern is noted." Teague said levelly, surprising Fennel deeply. "However, this is my ship and what I do with it is of no concern to you. Your loyalty to the laws of chivalry give you credit but if you ever offer advice to me without being asked for it I will find no reason to keep you under my employ and then you shall find this a very cruel and unforgiving place. Do you understand me?"

"Utterly captain. My apologies."

Teague nodded shallowly as he motioned to the ledger on the table. "Take it and go."

"Anything else sir?"

"Aye. Have the girl dressed fit for work, strapped with a cutlass and on the spar deck in one hour."

"Very good sir." Mr. Fennel said in monotone, cradling the ledger in his arm and turning on his heel to exit, leaving Teague alone once more to do his own work and tend to his own affairs.

- - -

That morning Arabelle was defiantly not entirely as jovial as the men around her seemed to be. Teague had expressed a desire for her to learn swordsmanship fleetingly some time ago, which made her think nothing of it, but as soon as she was swept into Fennel's care unrepentantly, clothed in an old chemise and taken down to Mr. Thomas to be strapped with a cutlass she no longer enjoyed the prospects of the day.

Heading to the spar deck, feeling very awkward carrying a weapon, Arabelle padded along behind Mr. Fennel feeling very self conscious in her little slippers. Teague backed away from the helm and met them with an approving look to see her looking more, outwardly, dangerous.

"Leave us Mr. Fennel."

Mr. Fennel gave a respectful nod but with heavy reluctance gave his mechanic reply.

"Very good sir."

Arabelle turned, watching him leave as she stifled a quiet sigh to herself out of pure dismay.

_Dear man. It's alright, I won't stab myself… I _hope.

Arabelle glanced down at the cutlass hanging from her hips and frowned, closing her eyes tight she prayed she wouldn't stab herself… or anyone else.

Opening her eyes and looking up she found Teague watching her with amusement but as she raised her brow she could see the smirk tug at his lips and thus felt a tug of her own- a tug at her heartstrings. It was a look, handsome enough to make her heart swell instantly but defiant enough to make her place her hands on her hips and question him.

"What is it now? And why'd you have to send Fennel away, dear man, he was only worried about me."

"Exactly. I can't stand having all these men around me worried about you. It's annoying and distracting."

Belle smiled and tossed her head boldly as she narrowed her eyes. "For who, you?"

Teague answered honestly with a quick smile but for her cheeky benefit shot the smile away with a frown.

"For the men, they can't do their work when they're watching you."

"I'm sorry but you've already told them they can't touch, I don't think you can now tell them looking is out as well."

Teague smirked. She was getting sharp and _amusing_.

"Aye, but getting rid of their worry would do for a start."

"Oh? How are you going to do that?"

"I'm not going to do anything, you are." Teague looked to her hips.

Following his eyes Arabelle remembered the belt around her hips and weapon housed herein. Suddenly she wasn't so sure.

"I hate to stomp out your little spark of intended victory, but I don't think that is going to work in the least."

Teague raised his brows in question and Arabelle clearly read his look, feeling even more confident with her inexperience.

"Because, for one, I'll be honest, I'm not that good. And two the men would worry about me no matter who was protecting me- I know that for certain."

Teague narrowed his eyes, she did have somewhat of a point but he was not up to believing her just yet. First, _he_ would see what she had and _then_ he would decide what to do. Besides he always believed that skill would come if you needed it. She would learn to fight, if not here than in the heat of battle. Or that's what he would have to have her believe.

"Well let's see what you've got." Teague withdrew his cutlass from it's scabbard and straightened his shoulders. Holding the blade down towards her knees, as not to threaten her, he waited but Arabelle refused to mimic the action.

"This is ridicules, I can't fight you!"

"Why?"

"You've handled a blade much longer than I have."

Teague raised his brow, smirking knowingly, Arabelle clenched her hands into tight fists and fought the urge to smile at him. Yes it was a ridicules statement- handling a blade meant nothing, handling it aright meant everything.

"You're more experienced, this isn't a fair fight." she said with determination.

"Any fight is hardly a fair fight. There will never be one here that will favour you I can promise you that. So unsheathe your cutlass and I'll teach you, hopefully, not to spill your guts on my clean deck."

Arabelle gapped at this but still reluctantly unsheathed her cutlass. Shakily holding it in her hand she levelled it with Teague's.

She wasn't sure about this but she wasn't about to give up and give him the satisfaction of gloating over her lack of experience. Meeting his eyes she could tell he was going to enjoy this little lesson but what she rejoiced over was a simple little secret, she knew more than she let on.

- - -

Arabelle withdrew her blade and stood back, nearly panting as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and stood -rather feebly- ready for the next attack. Teague, although not very satisfied with her reluctance to admit defeat, relaxed his stance and stood his cutlass up in the deck. With a unwilling sympathetic eye he gave her a short nod.

"That's enough for now."

Arabelle heaved a great sigh and raising her blade she acknowledged the end of the fight, shakily replaced her blade into it's scabbard, then staggered a foot or two before she sunk to the deck by the railing.

Propping herself up against it she breathed deeply and wiped her brow once again. She had been beaten without question and she was exhausted. She felt foolish thinking that she could have beaten this man or even surprised him. Her skill had been nothing compared to his, he had pushed her relentlessly leaving her groping to any chance to remain standing.

He had taught her some things but mainly he had made it his place to point out just how inexperienced and feeble she was. Even Arabelle, tired and humiliated, couldn't be angry with him for that. He had been right, this wasn't a place where she would be treated with partiality and she would much rather be shown that by him than an enemy.

Teague, returning his own blade to it's place, watched her until she caught her breath. Then making his way to the railing just down from her he regarded the sea and the encroaching dusk.

They had been at this for a few hours now, engaging in short attacks coupled with appropriate lessons and the odd insult. Arabelle had been reluctant to listen to his advice but eventually she was persuaded to listen- he assumed simply for the reason of taking advantage of him but it would take more than simple lesson to best him. Teague was an experienced fighter and she was not, it would take a long time before she was fit to engage another in battle and that would create a problem. Teague looked down at her, just now able to regulate her breaths. Another development he had to take care of, but how he did not yet know.

"We will continue tomorrow, if you can move."

Arabelle wiped a lock of hair out of her face and looked up at him. "Am I to end up like this again tomorrow?"

"You will end up like that until you learn how to best your opponent."

Arabelle breathed a sigh and brought her legs up to her chest, hanging her hands over her knees she stared blankly across the deck.

"And how long will that take? …To not end up like this every time."

"Years."

Arabelle looked up to find that mocking smirk on his face once again. She scoffed, pulled herself to her feet and leaned on the railing next to him and found it hard not to smile as she replied.

"That's comforting. Any chance in cutting that down to a few weeks."

Teague looked her up and down. "Not one."

Arabelle rolled her eyes unhappily. "Then what am I suppose to do."

Teague turned from her. "Pray that I'm feeling generous."

"And how is that suppose to help?"

Teague smirked and said nothing, his attention back on the sea.

"I suggest you get some rest. We've got lots of work to finish tomorrow."

"More fighting?"

"If that's what you call it." Teague said pushing himself from the railing and standing back. He turned to the deck and surveyed the work with a severe eye.

Arabelle glowered but remained silent, she however did not make a move to leave as he was hinting for her to.

"Is there anything else I need to learn besides fighting, because I'd relish a change in the schedule." "Nothing you'd be willing to submit to I'd venture."

Arabelle turned away, only to hide a sudden rosy smile- Teague, however, smirked openly.

"Alright luv. I'll make you a deal, you learn to fight well enough to best me and-"

"That's impossible." She retorted. "That _will_ take me years."

Teague's smirk deepened. "Aye, then you best one of my crewmen. Hunter or Dominic, they are landsmen, the lowest amidst the crew. Fair?"

"I suppose." Arabelle replied reluctantly. "But what do I get in return? Can I have my freedom back?"

Teague thought for a moment, watching her keenly. "You best one of them and we'll see about it. Within reason of course."

"Truly? I mean you're not just saying this to shut me up or anything, are you?"

"After all this time, you still don't trust me?"

"Not really, no." Arabelle looked at him pointedly but her eyes sparked with mirth as Teague gave a sigh.

"You know you're a real pain in me arse luv."

Arabelle smirked when she noticed the edge of Teague's lips twitch into a grin.

"I know, I'm good at it aren't I?"

Teague raised his chin and looked out to sea, hiding the laughter in his eyes.

"You focus on your swordsmanship and we'll see about your freedom."

Arabelle nodded and looked out to sea as well, quite content to simply stay like this for as long as possible. She would however still need to find a way to escape these lessons and she was about to inquire as to some less strenuous work when she felt the first pang of stomach pain. Cursing it's inopportune time Arabelle grasped her stomach- trying not to draw any undo attention to herself but failing as she caught sight of Teague's cautious eye upon her.

"Everything alright?" he asked kindly in a low voice.

Arabelle forced a smile. "Yes everything's fine. I'm just feeling a little tired, I think I'll go down and rest."

Teague narrowed his eyes but nodded without a word.

Arabelle turned and left Teague alone at the railing, passing her sword off to Gabriel as she passed him at the helm and disappeared below still clutching her stomach and frowning. Teague watched her go, hardly noticing Gabriel looking at him with concern.

"What was that about?" Gabriel asked with a raised brow.

Teague sighed, shaking his head slightly as he turned his eyes back to the ocean. Shrugging, Gabriel turned and handed the sword off once more, much better things to do than to be concerned with catering to the woman's personal chores.


	37. Ila Amsterdam

: Long overdue I think but here you are. I had some trouble with setting this one out right but I hope you think it turned out alright. other than that just read, enjoy and review. : )

* * *

Spending a good part of the evening wringing her hands and laying curled up on her bed worrying, but soon tired out of self pity Arabelle soon took hold of herself and got to working with the cloth Mr. Fennel had given her earlier this morning. It took only a short time to finish but that time her stomach demanded food so she abandoned her little hide away and went down to the galley for something to eat.

Returning a short time later, despite the protests of the lads, with a small package of biscuits she had sweet talked Tomas into giving her, she was surprised to find something at her door. Being dark in the corridor she hadn't any idea what it might be but as soon as she carried it into her cabin and lighted a lantern Arabelle's heart skipped a beat. It was a large cream basin, jug and two washing towels but it looked like the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Looking at them Arabelle could breath a sigh of relief, everything would be fun. She set the jug and basin up on the small table by the door. Then changing into her nightgown Arabelle blew out the lantern and slid under her covers, falling into a calm and restful sleep. No longer plagued with worry, she fell asleep with a smile upon her lips, knowing who had sent the gift.

The next morning brought rain and although Teague found it actually quite pleasant to be inside during such weather, set up with a book and bottle of wine, work took him outside to greet it. There had been some complaint about the rudder chain and meeting Mr. Mather and Mr. Finley on the spar deck early he had seen for himself the problem and ordered it repaired as best they could at sea.

Leaving both Carpenter and Bo'sun to tend to matters and Gabriel to oversee them Teague tipped the rain from his hat and headed down to return to his cabin- to hopefully dry and get on with other serious work.

Entering his cabin and shaking off the water at the door, Teague removed his hat, hung it at the door and slid off his sopping coat and before noticing he was not alone. Damp and dripping, Teague walked down the entranceway into the great cabin to see Arabelle standing before his desk. Teague could see she was pale and hollow eyed, either from the weather or her present ordeal, but innocently so. He wasn't sure why she had come up but she smiled gently as he stepped into the centre of the room and came forward to greet him.

Stopping merely inches away Arabelle raised her hands to his face and brought hers up- cupping his lips with her own grateful ones. Breaking the kiss moments later Arabelle met his eyes as she pulled her face away and twisted a wet lock of his hair around her finger.

"You're all wet."

Teague flashed a grin as he rubbed the small of her back with his damp fingertips, pulling her in closer. "So would you if you had been out in this bloody weather half the night."

Arabelle smiled gently and lifted her chin, allowing him to kiss her once more before she reluctantly slid her hands from his hair.

"I just wanted to say good morning and… thank you."

"No worries luv." Teague smiled and removed his grasp on her. "Get some rest."

"You too." Arabelle turned and left.

Teague had just shed his wet clothes for dry ones, just taken out a glass and bottle and sat comfortably in his chair when something didn't feel right. Laying the bottle of wine and glass down safely in the chair Teague abandoned momentarily his leisure thoughts and went to the door. Opening it he found Avery, poised- about to knock- and very much surprised to see Teague suddenly standing in the doorway.

"We've just spotted a frigate sir." Avery said non-the-less, rain gathering on the tip of his hat and running down his face.

"Where?"

"Off the starboard side, she's dancing through the fog merrily enough a league and a half off but we can't make out her colours. Have you any orders sir?"

"Aye, beat to quarters and run up our colours." Teague replied grabbing his coat and hat from the wall next to him.

Throwing them on he followed Avery, as the younger relayed his orders and sent the crewmen scampering about, back up to the spar deck where he found Gabriel and Raul standing fast despite the worsening rain. They nodded and stepped aside as Teague took his place off to the right of the helm but said little as Avery handed the spyglass to their captain.

"Two points off the starboard bow." Avery said as he motioned to the heavy patch of fog.

Teague raised the spyglass to his eye and scanned the fog, finding little but a hazy patch. Waiting for the wind Teague kept his eyes on the fog until, for the briefest moment he caught sight of the stern. And, lowering the glass, Teague stepped forward and put a hand on Mr. Howe's shoulder, leaned in, and gave his order above the rising wind.

"Three degrees south Mr. Howe, and keep her steady."

"Aye aye Captain." Howe called back and turned the wheel gently but lurching the ship forward with the wind.

Returning the glass to his eye Teague watched the ghostly fog for any other sings but could, unfortunately, find none. This made this catch a little more difficult because they were going in blind but all was well- not many could best the _Ash Bough_.

"Mr. Delany, take command of the port guns, I want them primed and ready. See that the men have their pistols and hooks with reach." Teague said, turning to his awaiting men.

"Aye sir." Raul nodded and hurried off, calling orders to his gunners before he even left the spar deck.

"Mr. Murphy." Teague turned to Avery. "You have command of the starboard guns. When the order is given you will lead the men across."

Avery nodded.

"See that your men are properly armed... we don't know what to expect."

"Understood." Avery turned and slid down the stairs, calling to his men with rallying enthusiasm as Teague turned his attention to the wall of fog with concern.

Gabriel appeared at his side and tipped his hat, shielding his face from the rain.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Teague opened the spyglass again a scanned the horizon despite his quartermaster's concern.

"Pity you look at this in terms of good and bad." Teague snapped the spyglass shut, casting his man a dangerous smirk.

Gabriel scoffed. "We've no idea what she is!"

"Every ship has spoil." Teague reminded him as he took his place off Howe's right.

"What say you captain?" Mr. Howe inquired, his eyes still peeled for any movement ahead.

"I like to see my target before I start shootin'. I'd say it's about time we became invisible Mr. Howe." Teague remarked off handily.

Etienne grinned and turned the wheel to the right, dipping the bow into the soft fog ever so slightly and causing it to roll through the ship in silence.

"Furl those sails Mr. Marshal, leave the mainsail guide us, and I want the men silent. Not a sound from anyone until my signal."

"Aye sir." Gabriel nodded and left his post to scurry down to the main deck and give the orders in the ears of each men.

Teague stood fast on the spar deck, guiding Mr. Howe from glimpses of the opposite ship, mentally planning his course of attack with careful concern until the first crack of a cannon was heard like thunder booming across the waves. Waiting a long moment, their breaths held and eyes peeled, the men held fast, crouched at their posts waiting for something to happen. Splashing into the water some yards from the bow, Teague frowned, not moving an inch, watching the fog very carefully until he spotted the frigate's stern.

"Starboard guns, fire!"

* * *

Within a long and difficult hour, Teague stood his ground at the gangplank as several crewman carried chests and kegs across from the opposite ship. He watched as Gabriel stood on the opposite frigate directing the opposing crew into the longboats and emptying their pockets as they passed. Teague smirked, watching him pluck watches and coins from their pockets, rings from the captain's hand and snuff from his officers.

The man did have underestimated cheek. Teague turned his attention across the plank to Avery, standing with a smirk as he to watched Gabriel's actions. Laughing to himself he turned his face to Teague and caught his look. Shrugging with ease, Avery bit his smile away and turned his laughing eyes back to the entertainment opposite.

Glancing at the passing spoil Teague flinched to attention as he caught sight of Arabelle's face appear from the hold. She smiled to Mr. Grant as he passed lugging a crate and caught sight of Teague with a frown. He stepped away from the gangplank, alerting Avery to action, as well as a few other wandering eyes.

"What's going on?" She inquired, glancing Avery up and down, spotted with battle smudges and the odd smear of blood, to turn her more concerned eyes to Teague.

Without having a chance to reply a cry arose from the opposite ship, hearty and surprised as shoving issued.

"Regarder, une femme! Le Capitaine's prostituee. Tirer sur femme!"

Everyone's head snapped to attention, Arabelle- well versed in French- went white as the issuer of the comment attempted to free himself from Gabriel and his men. Teague on the other hand simply moved Arabelle to Avery's side and barked an order for her to be locked in his cabin, as he turned with murder in his eye and a overeager finger upon the butt of his pistol.

Avery pushed Arabelle into the cabin just as Teague stepped foot onto the gang plank and crossed the void between vessels, watching as Hudson dropped the man to his knees, striding up to the cursing and spitting man he removed his pistol from his belt and levelled it with the man's forehead, coming to a stop directly before him. Everyone held their breaths.

"What did you say?" Teague inquired, his voice low and dark, scratching his throat as the words slid from his tongue.

The man shook but nonetheless repeated his statement, now flanked with more humility in his voice and explanation, more questioning who she was than insulting her presence.

"What she's doing here is of no concern to you." He snarled.

"Qui. Qui Capitaine, pardonner moi."

"Forgive you?" Teague frowned, cocking his head to the side as he narrowed his eyes. "I don't think so."

* * *

The next day's weather Teague took full advantage of. Seeing as the rains had diminished considerably and the fog had dissipated, the men were heartily glad to see the end of crammed quarters and the thus damp bodily odours, the men were happy to be out and most flew out from below at first light. Taking advantage of such, Teague commissioned the crew to scour both ships from bow to stern cleaning and repairing what was needed after their unpleasant exchange.

So ordering the men about and through a nearly rebuilding of the opposite ship Teague stood atop the spar deck of the _Ash Bough _watching the glorious chaos aboard both ships with approval. Men climbed aloft like spiders with ropes slung over them and needles and thread in their pockets and mouths to go a repairing. Other men stood on deck polishing and reloading the cannons, working around the zealous men scrubbing the deck with mops and holystones. Other's still tossed lines over the side and climbed down the hull, inspecting and repairing what need be, all the while singing sea shanties and exchanging meaningless talk amongst each other.

The long and short of it was Teague was proudly taking full advantage of the men's energy but in truth this repairing business was occurring far too much for his liking and he knew as shouts for materials went up that his lady in particular would definitely need to be retired.

Leaving the spar deck and walking leisurely across the deck Teague took into full account who's hands were lacking in prowess and mentally making note of the needed repairs being now tended to. Although they didn't amount to much he found out in the next few moments, they were not something he wished to throw his money away on.

No, changes would _have_ to be made.

Leaving the deck and retiring to his cabin, Teague had Mr. Palmer and Mr. Fennel join him in the great cabin. Sitting in his chair, Mr. Fennel off to his right- ledger open and quill poised above the page- Teague turned his attention to Mr. Palmer sitting across from him.

"What have you to say Mr. Palmer. What's the damage?" Teague inquired, knowledgeable enough but humbly yielding to Hudson's superior authority and experience in such matters.

"I have to say I'm surprised she's lasted this long captain, but e took a few shots to the hull that aren't going to be easy to remedy. She's tired out sir."

"What have I got to work with?"

"If you want to restore her, even just to give her the ability to weather another storm she's going to have to be dry docked for a considerable amount of time. She's got several hull boards needing replacing, besides the damage we've taken yesterday. And then there's the helm and rudder. We fixed 'em best we could but we'll need a skilled man to right her properly."

Teague rubbed his forehead methodically. "Any other major problems?"

"Ney, she'll sail for you best she can, she always has but there's a list of minor repairs that could prove time consuming to repair and costly."

"What are they?"

"Well, there's the main sail- she's just about had it. A few deck board both above and below need mending. The brig needs proper replacement hinges and locks. The powder magazine is hardly large enough to support our guns. A few portholes have begun to crack and leak. And the figurehead has weathered a great many squalls and needs repairing."

"And a cost of such repairs Mr. Palmer?"

Hudson scratched his head and frowned. "Far too much to be spending on an old gal."

Teague nodded and turned to Fennel.

"Confer with Mr. Mather and send Mr. Marshal in to me."

"Very good sir." Fennel stood, slapping his ledger shut and swiftly striding out of the cabin as Hudson stood.

"That's all Mr. Palmer, much obliged for your time."

"Any time." Hudson nodded, knuckling his brow, and leaving just as Gabriel arrived.

"You wanted to see me sir?" Gabriel said coming to a quick stop before Teague's desk.

"Aye." Teague leaned over his desk, his eyes on his quartermaster. "I am placing you in command of the _Esmeralda_."

Gabriel gaped. "You want me to take command? …just for a time or-"

"No. The captaincy of the _Esmeralda_ is yours if you so choose to take it."

"Oh aye, thank you sir."

Teague nodded. "I will leave you to chose your own crew but I believe Mr. Delany would serve well as quartermaster."

Gabriel grinned and nodded in spite of himself. "Thank you sir."

Teague only nodded rather stone faced and turned away as Gabriel departed. There was a new quartermaster to designate.

The next few days passed uneventful. Gabriel took several members of the _Ash Bough _crew along with a few willing of the _Esmeralda's_ crew and disappeared over the horizon with promises to meet up in Ila Amsterdam in four days. Teague on the other hand took no time scheduling changes aboard the ship. Although Mr. Marshal had been a very competent sailor and quartermaster there had been tendencies that had made him less desirable company, and now that he was gone all of the men seemed to relax considerably.

The morning after the Esmeralda had slipped over the horizon Teague was sitting in his cabin, going over some maps, when there was a knock at the door. Bidding entrance, Teague looked up to see Madrid approaching with a grin.

"Where have you been?" Teague inquired, setting his quill down to retrieve a small ruler.

"Hiding below. So he's gone then?" Madrid replied with a smirk, resting his hands upon the back of the chair opposite his captain.

"Who?"

"Abe."

"Aye."

"What took you so long?"

Teague across to Madrid with a chilly frown. "Watch your tongue."

"Oh aye, beg your pardon sir." Madrid smiled. "Really though, of course… with all due respect and all that, you've finally gotten rid of 'im."

"It was time he became captain, he's been quartermaster for six years."

"A bloody long six years."

Teague smirked, shaking his head as he stood. "Wine?"

"Sure." Moving around the chair, Madrid sat down with a flair of contentment, but not before looking around the cabin suspiciously.

"Where's Belle by the way?"

"Not here." Teague replied returning with wine and handing over a glass.

"Really why not?" Madrid took a sip of wine and smiled, pleasantly. "I would have expected her to still be here."

Teague raised a brow with disinterest. "She's not feeling well."

"Oh… nothing serious I hope."

"No, she'll be fine."

"Good. So, have you taken another quartermaster?"

"It's not you."

"Oh I don't doubt." Madrid chuckled.

"You shouldn't."

Madrid smirked. "I know I'll never be a quartermaster, and I'm comfortable with that."

"Good."

"But really?" Madrid took a sip of wine. "Hudson, Avery or Mather?"

Teague narrowed his gaze questionably.

"It's customary isn't it, to chose one of your higher officers." Madrid said his voice flat as he explained his inquiry.

"Aye. And replace two positions."

"Aye."

Teague took his wine in hand a smirked, ever so softly. "It's Mr. Palmer and I want you to replace him."

Madrid smiled over his wine. "Ha. You mean Ivan or Thayer don't you?"

"No. I want you to replace Palmer as Boatswain."

Madrid lowered his wine and raised his brow. "You're sure?"

"Aye, haven't I made that clear?"

Madrid smirked, waiting a long moment before he raised his glass. "To all good and serious captains then."

Teague smirked and raised his glass as well. "To hardworking Boatswains."

* * *

The next morning, bright and sunny, brought new hope to the crew as the dawn ascended with the sight of Ila Amsterdam looming on the horizon. The crew, exhausted and weary of their long and eventful journey breathed a sigh of relief at the harbour came into view. They had made it once more, they were back and in a few days they would make the return trip to Madagascar and pass the winter in comfort. It was all planned, every moment.

Arabelle opened her door, alerted to a knock the next morning at dawn, to find Teague standing there. Arabelle pulled her dressing coat tighter around herself as she looked cautiously up and down the corridor.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered hoarsely. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Teague smirked softly, catching a glimpse of skin, and tilted his head with a wash of charm.

"I have something for you."

"Teague, this isn't funny, you shouldn't be down here… you _never_ come down here. Why are you-"

Teague reached forward and took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it before he pulled her from her room and shut the door behind them. Leaning over her as she stood against the door he smiled for the briefest moment before whispering

"I have something for you. If you want it you'll have to come with me."

Arabelle swallowed, a forming lump in her throat with difficulty, looking up into his dangerous eyes with difficulty.

"Alright."

Arabelle stood and stared. It was a beautiful dark tan dress with a tight bodice and little jacket. It had a large heavy skirt that swayed along the ground even hung when hung up. Arabelle couldn't take her eyes of it. She couldn't believe this was hers, she never had been such a fine dress in all her life. During youth she had tried to dress as her brothers and all the school permitted was simple shapeless shifts of delicate patterns, nothing this womanly would have been allowed.

Arabelle reached for the dress and ran the fabric between her fingers. It was wool but woven so expertly that it felt like a heavy linen. Almost giddy with anticipation Arabelle turned and smiled at Teague, standing back proudly as she beamed with pleasure.

"Try it on." He said gently, his eyes smiling down at her as the corners of his mouth tugged to be let loose and grin nearly as broadly as she was now.

He had expected her to like the garment for it was nothing like the ones she had complained about the day previous but the look on her face was nothing like he had expected.

Arabelle hopped to Teague's side and put her arm around his back as she continued to stare at the dress. Teague, though, hung his arm over her shoulder and just smiled down at her, pleased as punch about such a novel thing. She made no other move towards the dress which made Teague chuckle.

"It's not going to break."

Arabelle shot him a smile and pouted her lips. "But it's just so beautiful."

"Aye and it's yours, so go ahead, put it on."

Arabelle bit her lip but her eyes flashed with delight as she stepped forward hesitantly.

Fifteen minutes later Arabelle immerged from his small cabin room, a coy smile on her face as she met Teague's grinning eyes. It fit like a glove.

Walking out onto the pier Teague smiled softly, slipping Arabelle's hand through his arm and with a wink they stepped forward, Teague's boots thudding softly on the old planks over the gentle swishing of Arabelle's skirts. Walking arm in arm down the pier Teague turned them down the street and nodded to a shopkeeper standing at the door of his shop, causing Arabelle to glance up at him. Smiling under her breath Arabelle tightened her grasp on his arm and hid her eyes as she felt multiple eyes upon her. Smiling, Teague nudged her and brushed his lips against her ear.

"Lift your chin. Don't shy away."

Arabelle bit her lips and turned her face to his, brushing against his cheek as she did.

"They don't see me, they're watching _you_. They know who you are."

Teague flashed a smile and nipped her ear with a kiss. "Some might, but they're not watching me, they're watching _us_."

Arabelle tucked her chin into her chest and tightened her grip on his arm once more as her skin shivered under his lips. They walked along past a few more shops before Belle lifted her chin, a window display catching her eye. Slowing Arabelle glanced at the display of books in the window and smiled as Teague joined her.

"Look. Jonathan Swift."

"A Favourite?"

"New."

Teague nodded and glanced over the entire display. "You want to look inside?"

Arabelle glanced up and down the window before smiling up at him and nodding. "If it's not too much trouble."

Teague smirked at her unique pleasure in literature and graciously obliged her, opening the door he ushered her in and became as a shadow, letting her wander and brose as he followed meekly behind. He watched her leaf through book after book with care and reverence. Smiling to himself he picked up a book, feigning interest, but just cutting his eyes across the shop to watch her nibble on her thumbnail as she leafed through a small novel. Smiling as the warm glow in his heart spread he laid the book down on the table and walked towards her.

They spent a good half hour browsing before Arabelle, clutching a small brown bound book approached the clerk. Teague met her there, handed the clerk a few coins as he wrapped the book in brown paper, and then slid across the counter to them with a humble smile. Arabelle thanked him and followed Teague out the door into the glorious sunshine with a smile on her lips.

It was such a quiet and lazy day compared to what they were used to but she was adoring it for that reason alone. As she took Teague's arm once more and lazily strolled along she felt like any other normal person out for a stroll, going to market, or just enjoying the day. She looked across at Teague, his eyes roving the scenery and gentle crowds of marketing women and old men, and the corners of his mouth tugged to form the shadow of a content kind of smile.

Growing tired of window shopping Teague directed Arabelle to a small Inn. It was a delightful little wooden building with a bright shop front and a handful of small tables and chairs placed along the street under the shade of a huge oak. Pleased with it's relatively clean appearance, Teague ushered Belle to the furthest table and took a seat. Glancing around and exchanging comments on the building a woman appeared at their table decked out with an apron and a friendly smile.

"'ello me darlin's. What can I get for yah?"

Teague looked across to Belle, looking quite lost, and turned back to the barmaid. "What do you recommend?"

"We've got a blessed plate o' steamed oysters."

Teague looked to Arabelle once more for an answer. "Sounds good."

"Grand." The woman smiled. "What'll yah drink?"

"What have you got in wines?"

The woman smiled scratching her chin a moment. "We've got a white and a red, bot' French I think."

"I'll have red." Arabelle replied. "Please."

"Right-o luv."

Teague suppressed a smirk. "Same."

"Grand. I'll bring 'em right up." Turning on her heel the woman swayed back inside calling out the order and weaving through the gaggle of children now passing through the open parlour.

Arabelle and Teague looked across the table at each other and smiled.

"What kind of accent is that? I thought this was a French colony."

"It is." Teague replied sitting back. "Though that doesn't mean only French live and work here. Many people pass through here- not all leave."

"It is beautiful."

"Aye."

"And to think I could have been living here by now." Arabelle murmured, absentmindedly but catching Teague's attention.

"I thought you said you were going to New Zealand."

"I was, that's where the ship was headed, but I got scared of going back. When I heard this was the last stop before reaching New Zealand I decided to jump ship here when we arrived and try to get by on my own. That didn't happen, but I don't think it would have been a bad place to be left."

Teague smirked and leaned forward across the small table with a gleam in his eye.

"I'm curious, how did you plan to earn money to live on?"

Arabelle smiled and leaned forwards as well. "Probably become a governess or a maid. I would have found a way."

"I'm sure you would. But tell me, do you think things would have worked out? Would you really have jumped?"

Arabelle smiled softly and intertwined her fingers with his, resting on the table. "I hope I would have. But now, I wouldn't dream of trying."

Teague smirked and descended his lips upon her honey ones.

"Ehm."

Breaking apart Teague slid his hand from her hair and pulled back as the barmaid placed the glasses of wine on the table with a tight smile upon her lips.

"Sorry luv." Teague smirked, sitting back, glancing across as Arabelle trying to hide her face and the blush therewith.

"Ney, don't be sorry for the gift o' love, just don't be showin' it off wit' me youngin's standin' by."

Teague turned to the door and sure enough a crowd of toddlers and children stood there, hidden amongst the shadows of the doorpost. Arabelle too noticed, causing her to blush all the deeper but Teague just smirked as he turned back to the table and the jolly woman trying in earnest to be stern but sympathetically failing.

"We didn't notice."

"Ney, didn't look like you were noticin' anythin'." She smiled. "Just so you know I'll be bringin' those oysters in a few minutes. If you'in think you'll be busy I've got rooms for rent, you can move it up there and eat later."

"That sounds like a goo- oi!"

Arabelle frowned and pulled her foot back, ready to administer another swift kick if needed.

"No thank you. We're just here to eat."

The woman smiled at Belle. "Good for you sweetie."

"Thank you." Arabelle raised her brow proudly in Teague's direction but was not faced with a frown but a dashing smile.

The woman chuckled and patted Teague's shoulder as she turned away.

"You keep tryin' laddie."

Teague cracked a small grin, his eyes locked on Arabelle's. "I will."

Enjoying the fresh oysters and the sporadic company of the jolly mother of twelve, Arabelle and Teague sat contentedly sipping their wine in the shade for quite some time. Although neither spoke of it, both their countenances gave evidence that they were enjoying the quiet time together. Arabelle cold not believe the change in the captain, he was nothing like the cold hearted fiend she had met through the murder of one of his crewmen. She had watched this new man slowly appearing before her over the past weeks but it wasn't until now that she was able to catch a glimpse of the finished product.

Arabelle gazed across the table at him, his face lifted to the sun and breeze, his eyes shut and his hair gently being tugged to and fro with the wind. It was almost sinful, his beauty- not only in form but in character. He could jump to complete opposite emotions in a split second, but rarely abandoned his love of silence and sincerity. He hardly ever smiled but Arabelle wondered what danger it would bring when a simple flash of teeth or smirk could make her weak.

Suddenly, lifting his eyes to hers, Teague set down his glass and slid his chair out from the table. Following suit Arabelle laid her napkin upon the table and stood. Dropping a collection of coins upon the table, Teague cast a nod inside to the barmaid and slid his arm around Belle's waist.

"Time to work. The _Bough_ needs to be seaworthy." He said gently, with an undertone of displeasure.

Arabelle smiled sadly and slid her hand around her waist to take his hand. Stroking his strong fingers she rested her head upon his shoulder and walked on along with him.

"I hope you're not striving to have it repaired immediately. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all." She sighed.

"You saying I can't do it." he smirked.

Arabelle scoffed. "I'm saying don't try. The men are in need of some relaxation."

Belle smiled to herself and looked across the market. "As is their captain."

Teague smirked and slid his hand across her back. "They'll be enough time for that later."

Arabelle nodded, reluctantly, she didn't relish the idea of being back to work.

In a few short minutes they found themselves deep in the lower streets of the harbour. Teague needed to arrange for parts and work to be done on the ship so they popped into a few shops before Belle grew tired and decided to remain on the street as he disappeared into the last shop. She stood before the shop, glancing about the street, watching a group of young girls playing hopscotch when she heard a familiar voice. Furrowing her brow Arabelle turned to see a group of men approaching the market square from her right. They seemed to be sailors but not at all very rough. A few faces actually seemed to look a bit familiar.

_Hmmmm_…

Then, one of the men turned and caught her eye. Belle's face drained.

_Laury_!


	38. Fears

HEY! Long time no see. Wow, busier than ever now a'days. So sorry it's been so long, I hope none of you have lost interest. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it I must tell you we're quickly coming to the end of thi story.

Thx for reading

* * *

_Laury!_

Arabelle froze under his passing gaze, she tried to blend into the crowds, to make herself appear at home but with a quick glance in his direction she knew he had seen her. Arabelle cursed the beautiful dress she wore, apparently it made her stick out like a sore thumb amongst these common paupers. She didn't know if he recognised her but she quickly moved from the shop front through the thickening crowds.

"Arabelle?"

_Damn_! He had seen her. Glancing over her shoulder against her will Arabelle saw him approaching, weaving through the crowds behind her, leaving his mates behind and calling after him.

"Arabelle Sparrow?"

Arabelle picked up her skirts and pushed through the crowds to quickly duck around a corner to reveal a dark and dingy alleyway. She wrinkled her nose at it's resident drunks slumped at the other end but flattered herself against the wall and shrunk down. A moment later Laury rushed by, weaving through the crowds and casing a woman now disappeared but he didn't loose heart, he ran off down the street towards the square. Arabelle breathed a sigh of relief but didn't move, not yet anyway.

"'ello … _hick_… me … _hick_…darlin'."

Arabelle turned to see a scraggly old drunk stumbling towards her, She frowned and waved him away.

"Go back to your bottle sir. I'm not here for your entertainment."

"No? …_hick_… you look a… _hick_… a little like… _hick_… a girl I used to… _hick_… know."

"You don't say?" Belle frowned, ignoring him to look back to the street.

Seeing no evidence of Laury or his friends she made a move to abandon her present company when a hand appeared on her shoulder. Jumping out of her skin Arabelle's heart raced as she waited for the impending voice of doom. One however the didn't come, feeling the hand slid across her shoulder and the faint coolness of metal bands Arabelle turned to find Teague smile grinning down at her from a pair of vivid black eyes.

Relieved beyond belief Arabelle turned and threw her arms about him as she bit back racks of sobs building within her chest. Teague held her tight but with each moment grew more and more concerned at her out of character behaviour. Her skin rippling with the sensation of gooseflesh, Teague rubbed her back vigorously- suddenly concerned that she had taken ill. They stood there for some time, until the drunk lost interest and staggered back to his companions passed out in the other end of the alley, leaving Teague and Belle alone in the shadows.

"What happened?"

"Can we leave." Belle whimpered. "I want to go back to the ship."

"Of course, but-"

"_Now_ Teague."

Teague inhaled, his chest rising quickly as he released his arms from around her. Sliding his coat off his shoulders he threw it around her and put a protect arm back around her as he turned to the street.

"Come on."

Stepping foot on deck of the Ash Bough Arabelle felt a wash of calm run over her. She had been jumpy all the way back, through the streets and down the pier, but now surrounded by the men she felt better. Their was a rule amongst mariners- you didn't step foot aboard a ship unless you were invited… or trespassing. And trespassing on a docked ship was a serious sin indeed.

No, he couldn't reach her here. Laury wasn't that kind of person, not one to risk life and limb for the sake of a woman barely a friend. Besides, he didn't know where she was staying- ship or inn- or even if she was staying. Suddenly Arabelle's mouth grew dry.

"Teague, you never addressed Captain Thuron aboard the _Mary Eliza _when you raided her did you, like you've done with other ship's we've met?"

Teague looked down at her with misunderstanding, ushering her to his cabin. "Aye."

Arabelle cringed. "He was made known of the ship wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he knows how to read, aye. Why?"

Arabelle closed her eyes. "The _Mary Eliza _is here."

"Are you insinuating that there was something between the two of us? We were _friends_, that's all." Arabelle frowned, poised at the door of Teague's cabin, staring hard in his direction.

They hadn't been inside the cabin two minutes before Teague asked her what she was doing, drawing attention of past admirers. Arabelle had been so shocked and so distraught that she took his jest the wrong way and had snapped at him making such assumptions. They had exchanged a few coarse words, sending the conversation diving in the direction of fabricating an immoral background for Arabelle, causing her to resent him heartily.

"Good friends, I don't doubt, the way you ran from him." Teague retorted, loosening the top button of his vest as he moved across the room, wine bottle in hand, towards the stretch of rustic glass panes stretching across the wall behind his desk.

"I was startled."

"And I was surprised you ran from him, not at him."

"He is here with his ship. Did you ever think it may have been my concern for what might have happened had they of found you, charged you of kidnapping and hung you from the gallows, that made me run?"

Teague tossed her an empty smirk. "Hardly."

Arabelle unbuttoned her snug little coat and slid it off, tossing it onto the cot and returning to the great cabin with a scowl stretched across her lips.

"What are you saying then?"

"You and the lad, you were closer than you think."

"You cannot be serious." Arabelle retorted. "You know I've never been with anyone but you."

"That doesn't mean you didn't _enjoy_ each other's company."

"You impotent sea rat."

"Hey, I'm not the one carrying on with a common ship's boy."

"No, carrying on with an innocent prisoner is more your tune."

Teague clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing with disappointment and anger. Instantly Arabelle regretted her words.

"Teague I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I told you-"

"I know." She frowned with repentance, rushing to his side by the window. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I want to be here with you."

Teague said nothing but only met her eyes. The anger washed from his eyes but the disappointment did not. Words such as those were not something he forgot easily.

Arabelle stepped forwards, close enough to touch with little effort, and lifted her chin to met his charcoal eyes with misery.

"I'm sorry. He meant nothing to me. He was only a kind boy who listened to my complaints and growled protectively at gentlemen showing impure advances. He was nothing more, I swear to you."

Teague nodded shallowly but still said nothing.

"I only hope he dose not alert my sighting to his captain or the authorities." she said, not moving but glancing out the window.

"he would be a fool to without evidence."

"Isn't us laying in harbour enough evidence?" She asked, looking up at him with concern.

"How many reports of missing person have you read a note of recovery, let alone when pirates are involved?"

Arabelle sighed, feeling more assured but still concerned until Teague lifted his hand to her cheek and giving her a weak rendering look.

"They won't take you." he whispered. "…because I won't let you go."

They had departed from Ila Amsterdam two days prior and were making good time on their return trip to Madagascar when the winds died one afternoon, dropping them to a slow crawl. Hardly making anytime now the men, all those newly reunited with their friends from the _Esmeralda_, took advantage of the general slow pace of life and took to playing dice and fishing for a good part of the day. Teague wasn't in a big hurry to return, nor did he have any command over the weather so he let them be, he had his own work and company to occupy him.

Arabelle on the other hand began developing strange feelings. She was not used to long periods at sea and attributed her fatigue and listlessness to that but as the symptoms persisted she went to visit Ben.

Arabelle sat before Ben with a blank look on her face. She hadn't heard him right, surely she hadn't. He was wrong, she was just not feeling well. It was the sun, surely it could be. She would be feeling better soon. This wasn't anything serious… it couldn't be.

"Ben?" She asked, her voice weak with a mixture of emotion and confusion. "You didn't just-"

"Congratulations love." he smiled brightly, making his old eyes shine with pride.

"No. I'm not… check again."

Ben smiled and patted her knee.

"I may be an old washed up sailor luv but I know the tell tales of when a woman is with child."

Arabelle's eyes welled with tears, her hands started to tremble, causing immediate concern from the dear old man. He stood and laid his hand on her arm but she looked up at him only with frustration.

"I can't be with child." she whimpered. "Please, can't you do something. Anything. I can't-"

"What's wrong with that darlin'? Women have children all the time. …you're not scared are you?"

Arabelle wrung her hands.

"Teague." she whispered painfully. "I don't want to lose Teague."

Ben frowned. "You're not going to love. Why would you ever think a thing like that?"

"He's… a baby doesn't belong here."

"Neither did you a few months ago and look at you now." Ben's eyes smiled kindly down at her. "He couldn't keep his eyes off you… he still can't."

"He will now." she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. "I'll be huge!"

Ben chuckled and patted her arm affectionately as he reclaimed his seat across from her.

"Darlin' I think you should know something about the male gender. There is nothing we find more attractive than a woman that is carrying our child. No matter how large her stomach gets or how swollen her ankles become."

"My ankles are going to swell?" Arabelle exclaimed, sobbing suddenly with such force that Ben winced and quickly jumped to his cabinet of tonics.

He quickly looked through all the bottles before he found two she could use and another for Teague. She had been a feisty one since she had stepped on board and no doubt she would be worse with the rapid mood swings of pregnancy. Ben closed his eyes and prayed for all things holy to give Teague strength of patience. He was going to need it.

Arabelle made her way back to the main deck feeling conspicuous in her own skin. She kept looking down at her stomach with a gnawing feeling of betrayal. She knew this was her fault completely but she couldn't help but feel exposed and in need of a victim to blame.

Arabelle went to the railing and looked out over the sea, feeling a little queasy as the thought, of her actually having to tell all this to Teague, took a jaunt across her mind. How she would tell him she did not know, nor if she wanted to tell him, but she knew she had too. However, as two strong arms suddenly circled her waist she lost her nerve.

She relished the feeling of him leaning his head against hers as he hugged her tightly from behind and wanted to cry out of desperation. She loved him so much she was afraid of disappointing him with this news. She tried to imagine them having a child together but it only seemed like a disaster. She tried to picture a toddler standing next to her holding her hand, walking across the deck to her, waking them up in the morning… crying out in the night… getting lost below deck… falling overboard. Tears welled in her eyes once more as she bit down on her lip as hard as she could.

A baby meant there would be no more of this, she thought as Teague nuzzled her neck, nipping at her skin with adoring love bites. A baby meant no more days scouting different ports with the crew, no more hours spent sitting idle in the rigging with Madrid, no more days and nights locked away with Teague. No more freedom.

Arabelle closed her eyes tight and tried heaven knows how hard not to cry. She couldn't do it. She couldn't… then opening her eyes she laid her hand across her belly. She couldn't feel it, she didn't even look any different but suddenly at that moment of complete overwhelming doubt she felt something inside her that she had never felt before. She didn't know if this was what she had been wanting to feel but at that moment she knew she _would_ have this baby. She would stick it out and pull through this. No matter what anyone said. She would love and care for this baby… Teague's baby.

Arabelle closed her eyes and smiled despite it all, her anxiety trickling away. This was Teague's baby. She was carrying _Teague's_ baby. Forgetting all her past worries about raising a child she began to think of what it would look like, if it was going to be a boy or a girl. She knew it would be a long time before it was here but she instantly felt anxious for it to arrive. She wanted to look into its eyes and see Teague's. She wanted to feel the loving glow that mothers felt when they held their babies to their breast. She wanted to feel it's little hand in hers and its kiss on her cheek… she _wanted_ to tell Teague. She wanted to share this feeling with him.

Arabelle leaned back into Teague's embrace, smiling blissfully at her own thoughts.

"Teague?"

"Aye?"

"I have something to-"

Suddenly a breeze tugged at her hair, gently at first then with the snapping of sails the men cheered. The wind had returned, the lull was passed- finally!

"Captain!"

"…I-"

"Just a minute luv." Teague turned, loosening his grip around her.

"We've got a strong leeward wind, moving five knots."

Without looking down at her Teague removed his grip from around her and left her by the rail. "Unfurl all canvass Mr. Palmer."

"Aye sir!"

Arabelle watched him go, feeling slighted but understanding. These things came first, she knew that. However, that didn't help her any. She frowned and left the railing, going into their cabin in a huff, angry at herself for not just coming out and telling him when she should have.

Teague came in a few minutes later, going directly to his desk and rifling through it, not noticing Arabelle sitting in one of the chairs before the window. She stood when he pulled out a map, and laid it across the table, sensing this was a good a time as any to tell this man he was going to be a father.

"Teague."

He didn't reply, his mind tied up with the markings and notes on the map before him, but Arabelle advanced to the desk in desperation.

"Teague I-"

"Not now luv." he said, cutting her off coolly. "We've got-"

"It's important." she insisted.

Teague looked up, his face void of expression but his eyes clearly unapproachable.

"It can wait." He told her firmly, rolling up the map and leaving the cabin without another word, leaving Arabelle feeling utterly spurned by his coolness.

She frowned and stood ramrod stiff for a moment, just swimming in her sorrowful frustration before she decided she was _not_ going to let him brush her off like that. He had no right to pass her off like that. It was just wind that had come up, that happened all the time. She was having a baby.

_A bloody child!_

Arabelle set her jaw and abandoned the cabin, going directly to the spar deck to find Teague and tell him. He _would_ pay attention to her, she would make sure of that, and he would know what was going on right now. She didn't want to wait. She didn't even care if anyone else was around, she would tell him immediately.

Arabelle came up behind Teague standing on the sparr deck with Hudson and Madrid looking over a map spread over the railing. Madrid was pointing out something on the map as she approached and fearlessly interrupted.

"Teague, could I have a moment please?"

Teague ignored her. She knew better, they were working. Madrid and Hudson however stopped short and turned, expectantly but wary of Teague. Arabelle waited, patiently.

"I'm busy luv." Teague replied, his voice sharp, barely civil.

"So am I." Arabelle retorted. "But I have to tell you something important."

"It'll keep."

"No it won't."

Teague turned, clearly frustrated as his eyes flashed. "Why the hell not? I'm busy sweethea-"

"I just came from seeing Ben. … I'm with child Teague." She said gently but her voice hitched with anger for his lack of concern for her needs. "Your child."

"What!" Madrid jumped forward and smiled broadly. "No!… Really?"

Arabelle smiled at him briskly and nodded, absolutely beaming with delight, but turned her eyes back to Teague immediately.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Teague asked frankly.

Truthfully he didn't know what to make of this. He didn't like children… he didn't like the entire domestic scene. He never thought he would find himself here… but then again he never thought he would find himself living with a feisty young girl from Whales either.

"I just did." Arabelle replied softly as Madrid and Hudson both stepped aside, taking the work with them to give the two some much needed solitude.

"_Before_."

"I tried. You didn't give me a chance."

"You're with child." Teague said defiantly.

Arabelle nodded, wanting him to hold her but reluctantly kept the distance between them.

"When?"

"It's due?" With a nod from Teague Arabelle continued, her mind racing, trying to find clues as to his emotions. "Ben seems to think during the end of May."

Teague glanced across the deck, trying to sort out his emotions as he ran those two words through his mind. His baby. His mind was blank, besides those words, clear of anything encouraging to say. He could tell she needed to hear something. He turned his eyes back to her and suddenly felt his heart give way. Her eyes were underlined with anxiety and her usual smiling lips were set in a grim line. He had grown accustom to her, her looks and her person- he knew her as good as himself now. Teague bit his tongue, denying himself from saying it but surely he could grow accustom to a babe too.

Teague stepped forward and took her hand, his eyes suddenly all aglow like a dark ember. Arabelle's eyes welled with tears- that look meaning more than any words he could have said.

"You're not going to send me away… are you? You're not going to-"

Teague kissed her, silencing her worries by one lick of the tongue. He smiled against her lips with confidence and pulled back to rest his forehead on hers.

"We'll need a bigger cabin." he whispered.

"That's quite impossible. You need the great ro-"

"Ney, we'll need a bigger ship."

Arabelle caught her breath, pulling back she looked him seriously in the eye and nibbled her lip.

"You'd get a bigger ship just for a baby?"

"I've been thinking about it for some time." He smirked and pulled her closer. "That cot is a little small."

Arabelle exhaled a smile of her own and kissed him contently.

Everything was okay. Things were changing but everything was okay. They had time but Arabelle could tell Teague already had things figured out.

The next few days passed swiftly for Arabelle as if she was living upon a cloud, other than her few days of sickness she felt wonderful with the prospects of giving birth to Teague's child. They spoke of it frequently but Arabelle could tell it would take some getting used to, especially when Teague found her aloft with Madrid.

She had gotten a sound scolding for doing such a thing in her condition and another from Thomas when she requested wine. He made it clear that no spirits would touch her lips until the birthing began, dejected Arabelle fled to Teague for consolation but he too denied her any strong drink.

Those days of getting accustom to her new role and the responsibilities of carrying a child Arabelle slowly fell into the pace and swing of life like a natural. She spent her days strolling the deck, reading and knitting. She would watch the horizon and talk with Madrid in the mornings, spent the hot afternoons in the cabin and cuddle with Teague in the evenings. It was an ideal life and she was enjoying it immensely. Until the first emotional swing hit that is.

Arabelle entered the cabin behind Teague silently. She had been strolling with Madrid, hearing old stories about Teague when a slip of the tongue discreetly disclosed what a drifter he had been, visiting many exotic places and leading many lives. Hit with a sudden feeling of shock Arabelle's mind jumped three steps ahead and assumed Teague was still a philandering youth.

Soon after with Madrid being called away for business, Arabelle was left alone at the railing to wallow in her dangerously frail emotions. Spending as long as she could refraining from assaulting the situation she soon broke down and stomped off towards the cabin, her mouth set in a grim line and her hands rigid at her sides.

Finding Teague as she always did, elbow deep in maps and ledgers she stopped short before his desk and expertly refused to react in like to the gentle look he cast her. However, seeing her distressed face he stood quickly and moved around the desk.

"What's wrong?"

"I think we need to talk." She said, putting a dampener on the glow in his eyes.

Nodding with discretion Teague sat on the edge of his desk and unbuttoned the top button of his waistcoat. Getting comfortable he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes- waiting.

With his waistcoat partly undone and his shirt hardly covering much skin, Arabelle groaned. This was one look he sported occasionally which always made her knees weak. She loved Teague, so very much, his intoxicating brown eyes and his strong marred body. With that look Arabelle's unfounded feelings of betrayal vanished.

Sensing her sudden reluctance to continue Teague smiled lightly and prodded her.

"Everything alright?"

"Yes." She sighed, moving her eyes from him to his eyes, regaining her confidence she crossed her arms over her chest and stood before him. "But we need to talk."

"What about it?"

"I am enjoying being with you, and with a child on the way I need to know… what kind of chance do you think we have… future wise?"

"Do you want to leave?"

"No, no. I just don't want to get caught up in this, thinking it'll last until we're old and then be suddenly…"

"Abandoned?"

Arabelle nodded, remorsefully as she lowered her eyes and laid her hand across her still taunt belly.

Teague smiled and reached for her hand. She was really a gentle soul, under all her nail biting insults and he loved that about her.

"What do you want me to do then luv?" He asked softly. "Put a ring on that finger? …we both know that won't make it any more permanent."

Arabelle pouted. She actually hated the thought, being bound by law, and he knew that already.

"No. I just want to make sure this is what you want."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well you've been… to a lot of different places and you've meet a… well a lot of different people. Surely there is someone out their more desirable than me."

Teague smiled, her naivety was amusing.

"No."

"No?"

"There isn't."

Arabelle released a smile, more than happy with his reply after what she had previously heard.

"What about what you want in life?… the age difference isn't a problem is it?"

"Age difference?" he asked, with an injured air. "What are you talking about?"

"I just-"

Teague's frown appeared but his eyes danced with unadulterated mirth.

"How old do you think I am?"

"Teague." Belle smiled, secretly afraid to guess. To her Teague was ageless, she didn't want to guess, she didn't want to disappoint him but clearly she already had.

"How old?" he asked again.

Arabelle bit her lip and cringed. "Forty three?"

Teague scoffed. "I am thirty six."

Arabelle's eyes brightened. He was only fifteen years older than she was. Suddenly Arabelle frowned… _fifteen years. _Was that a long time?

Teague stroked her jaw line and looked down at her sensitively. "What?"

"I'm fifteen years younger than you." she confessed, feeling rather wary about the new reality of their relationship.

"Aye?" Teague asked slowly, not quite sure what her actual point was.

"You're fifteen years older than me. You were fifteen… and probably enjoying it, when I was just born." She murmured, looking up into his serious coal eyes. "That means…"

Teague smiled, suddenly shaking off her discomfort by descending his lips upon her olive neck. "That means I've got a lot more experience."

Arabelle smiled, at ease, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and melted willingly into his arms. He was older but he was right and she loved him for that.


	39. Future Hopes and Dreams

: Hey there. It's been killer hot out so I've been sweating it out at the computer for all you lads and lass' to get this done. It might be a little ahead of schedule or behind... I forget when I posted last. So yes, a few of you have made comments about Arabelle being pregnant. It was coming wasn't it? But is it Jack? Hmmmm. I'm not telling. ;) Read, enjoy and review!

_

* * *

_

It came about so suddenly, one moment Belle was laying blissfully in Teague's arms and the next, thrown from content sleep by a blast to the hull, she was picking herself up off the floor as Teague was yelling for her to dress and find a weapon. She didn't know who had found them- Teague was always very careful with lanterns on deck- but they did- and as Arabelle dressed she wondered with great anxiety _who_ had found them and why they were shooting.

Arabelle received her answer a few moments later, arriving on the spar deck to witness the struggle they had with the darkness.

Teague stood along side his new first mate, Mr. Palmer, and Madrid by the railing whilst Avery was doing his best to command the shots of the blind gunners. As Arabelle met them, Madrid extracted himself and met her some feet away to quickly explain the situation to a very disturbed and dishevelled young woman.

No doubt they had been enjoying the sweetness of company when they had been disturbed, Madrid wished to smirk but he could not, it was not important right now. Nor did he wish to even think of Arabelle and Teague together, it was hard, trying to treat it as lightly as he could when more and more he found himself discovering it was a tender subject. He thought of Belle like a sister, and picturing her clad in a sheet or in his captain's arms left a sour taste in his mouth and a knot in his stomach.

Putting those distasteful thoughts aside, Madrid lead her to the railing by the helm and began to divulge all the information he had.

"It's a Frigate from what we've see but she's playing with us. Dodging in and out of the shadows like a mouse teasin' a tabby." Madrid glanced across into the limitless darkness. "She's a privateer. I bet my life on it."

Arabelle frowned. She didn't like this- privateer's were commission by the King to hunt pirates with guile and greed, freeing their Navy for the King's own business.

"How did they find us, Teague is always careful with lanterns."

"Aye, but no doubt she's followed us from port or from where she was hiding in some cave and came a' crawling out as soon as dusk fell the miserable filthy bunch of scavengers."

"Do you think they outgun us?"

"From what we've seen so far is she's only got one." Madrid smirked insolently but quickly returned the frown to his face as he caught sight of her anxiety. "She's our size which means it's unlikely but greedy old rats pay large sums of coin for the safety of extra guns."

Arabelle glanced across the dark deck to the two cannons sparkling with each flash of sparks. Had Madrid forgotten Teague had just purchased two new guns for this exact reason? They weren't greedy surely… well maybe they were, but old rats they certainly weren't. As another blast rumbled through the still night like thunder Arabelle decided against Madrid's comment involving them- they were prepared at least.

Madrid looked to her after a moment of scanning the darkness to find her doing the same, appearing blind to everything else.

"Lad."

Both Arabelle and Madrid turned to Teague and Palmer, Teague stood waiting but there was concern across his face.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked her.

"I want to help."

"All the help I need is from my lookout. Lad I need your eyes aloft tonight."

Madrid nodded. "On my way, captain."

"And you, I want safe." Teague said grimly, turning his eyes back to Arabelle.

"How about at your side?" Arabelle asked stepping forward.

"This is not the night. Ivan."

"Aye captain?" Ivan, a sturdy built blond man appeared from the dark.

"Take her to the great cabin and see the door is secure."

Ivan nodded and turned to Belle.

"Come 'long darlin'. You need your rest."

Teague turned back to the inky abyss as Ivan ushered Belle away, leading her back to the cabin whence she came.

"You best get inside. If we do engage the bloke it won't be for a while yet. There's no sense in standin' around up here in harms way."

Arabelle nodded slightly with truth and sighed.

"Augh, now there's no need for that darlin'. I'm sure you'll be sent for you 'soon as something' happens. And if not…" Ivan gave her a wink before dashing off. "… the captain'll be back in your arms."

Arabelle exhaled stiffly, glancing back at Teague, and nodded shallowly. Normally she would have blushed but not now. It was tough being in his life. It truly was. Arabelle forced a smile, but it was something she wanted to do, she wanted to be the one he came to each night.

"I'll go sharpen my cutlass."

Ivan smirked. "Or if we're lucky, warm the sheets, aye."

Arabelle scoffed and watched him do an about face and stand next to the door. He looked like a solider, guarding the fair maiden. Arabelle looked down at her worn gown and rolled her eyes, as if that was ever to come true.

* * *

As luck would have it they did escape the Privateer, slipping into the darkness of night thanks to a sudden cloud of fog. Teague returned to the great cabin not entirely pleased but accepting the sea's judgement. He would have much rather slaughtered a crew and ship brazen enough to take a shot at his beloved ship but he trusted the sea and he felt that if he should have seized the ship he would have.

Arabelle was waiting for him with some wine and a blanket. The night air was chilled by the wind and the dampness of the fog did little to help. The men were used to it, as Teague had made clear on previous occasions but as Arabelle helped him off with his coat and hat he could sense this was more than a worry over his health.

* * *

Morning came early, but as it did it found the ship quiet and under substitute command. With the distant action the night previous many a men could still be found swinging in their hammocks but they were undisturbed by heated commands for the captain himself had not yet risen either.

Arabelle smiled, biting her lip as she selected a bead from the dish she turned back to her work. Leaning back over her pillow she treaded the bead, braided another inch and tied off the end.

"Okay, turn."

Teague rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, where, in a moment she would be. Popping back into view with a length of thread hanging from her lips. Teague cracked a grin, one more visible in his eyes than on his lips.

He had done this before, when young strumpets had gotten hold of him and after their work they had considered to create a worthy look for him out of his mess of hair. So, history repeating itself, Belle had taken to the idea almost instantly and set about creating her own style. Already she had taken out half of what she had done but Teague wasn't complaining.

Belle stared down at Teague, with narrowed eyes, a long time before she moved, apparently trying to judge what to do at the front but when she turned back from gathering what she wanted he was sitting up facing her with those eyes.

"Hey, I'm not finished." she grumbled, string still hanging from her mouth.

Teague grinned darkly, in his mischievous way and plucked the strong from her mouth as he brought his closer. Belle didn't even try to protest. This was their day together, locked away, and it was to be used in any way they saw fit. And this was one of them. When they did break away, however, she gave him a sharp poke in the ribs and a stern look.

"Back down."

Looking at her with defiance, Teague slowly lowered himself down, never breaking eye contact. Belle, in return, narrowed her eyes and grabbed her string length from his hand. Then throwing her leg over Teague, she sat squarely on top of him. With a look of triumph written plainly across her face she went to work, selecting a piece of hair hanging behind his ear when she felt his hands on her hips and then, suddenly, caught a grin flash across his face. Then, without warning, Teague flipped Belle over and under him, causing her to shriek.

Outside, in the cool misty air, the men posted on watch all turn and look at the captain's cabin door. Many smile, in expectation of realization of what is most likely going on, while the other's just rolled their eyes. It's happened many times before, and as far as they are concerned it will keep happening but as of yet nothing bad has come of it so they don't pay any attention to these instances and interruptions.

* * *

They were up before the sun that day but they did not miss a moment's sleep, for they spent it wrapped in each other's arms talking quietly. In their own ways marvelling at the simplicity of their joy's foundation. It had been Arabelle's idea to spend more time talking of the past and future now that they were to become parents, and it went fairly well after some prodding. They talked for hours without interruption and heard many things never spoken. Soon though the dawn finally ascended, threatening their quiet soul searching conversation was gentle rays of sunshine.

Feeling the moment's being threatened, Arabelle pulled back and looked Teague in the eye, oh those chilling black eyes. A shiver ran up her spine as she connected with them, now not those cold spiteful eyes she had been confronted with a year earlier but now the eyes of a man, a deep and loving man. Arabelle shifted in his arms and gripped the back of his neck, her hands tenderly running each strand of hair through her fingers as she just looked him in the eye.

"It's true then?" She asked quietly.

Teague clenched his jaw, denying to speak, but that was all she needed. Arabelle extracted one of her hands from his mess of hair and tenderly ran it down the edge of his jaw to his thin, powerful lips.

"You have a past..." She paused with sadness. "...we all do. I understand that. ... it's not who you are now, what should it matter?"

Teague grunted. "I'm not-"

Arabelle put her finger to his lips and shushed him. Tenderly she caressed his neck and gave him a tentative smile.

"You're not a murderer Teague." She whispered "I can see that, you don't have to explain your actions to me. Don't think you need to. Just..."

She paused, fighting back the sudden urge to shed a wistful tear as she pushed the next words through her lips.

"Just know I'm here... _always_… with you."

Teague blinked and brought his hands up her back to cradle her neck, they laid there staring at each other-almost as if they had never seen such a thing as each other but soon the spell must be broken. Arabelle sighed lightly and reached for his hand around the back of her neck. Closing her eyes, just long enough to savour that feeling of his strong hands around her she looked back at him-back to those dark eyes and breathed deeply. Yes, the spell would be broken eventually... but not yet.

* * *

Standing at the end of the street, with Teague at her side, Arabelle stood silently completely dumbstruck as she stared at the massive ship-of-the-line floating a few hundred feet away. It was ominous, dark but richly so although battered and slightly tattered. Docked at the end of the extended pier she didn't quite realize at that moment the sheer size of the vessel but she could tell it was a great deal larger than any ship she had ever seen up close.

"What do you think?" Teague asked, urging her forward with a hint of pride.

Although it had taken him only a few hours to locate and buy, it was clear he was pleased with his impulsive purchase. He and Madrid had talked for great lengths about purchasing a new ship, but although Arabelle found herself listening with interest she had never thought it would actually happen anytime soon. Teague had told her a little about it but actually she didn't think it was very different from the _Ash Bough_, naturally, faced with this war machine she was surprised.

"Teague it's huge." She nearly gasped, clutching his arm.

"Aye. 70 guns and two decks. We'll need to take on a larger crew and loose the upper hand of speed but we'll have the advantage in strength."

Arabelle could hardly take her eyes off the vessel as they approached, it gave her a kind of thrill to hear Teague use the word '_we'_ in such a way but she felt a sickening dread to think of the cost of such a luxury strength might be.

"Teague I know I agreed we needed a new ship, and I know strength is important, but how can we afford such a luxury this ship might offer?"

Teague smirked. "Luv I've got gold and jewels stashed away all over the Mascarene Islands. We can afford ten ships this size and half of England's parliament."

Arabelle looked at Teague in surprise, actually with so much surprise that Teague had to scoff with amusement, but other than nudge her forward he did little, and she was far too surprised to reject his lead. She would ask him later about that, she would not forget, but now approaching the ship she had something else to look at.

Teague lead Belle past the men slowly bringing supplies and cargo aboard, but coming up to full view of the main deck they found the ship complete mayhem. Teague was loosening no time outfitting his new vessel, he had carpenters aboard fixing moulding and repairing railings, shipwrights following Madrid's every move discussing the cost and extent of extra guns and general repairs, while merchants scrambled up and down the pier to secure the best prices on cargo for such a 'prime customer'.

Teague, however, only offered a quick word to Mr. Palmer before he lead Arabelle through the doors under the spacious spar deck, flanked by two mahogany staircases, and into the cabin beyond. Stopping at the entrance of the cabin Arabelle stared in awe at the spacious cabin before her.

It was larger than the _Bough's_ nearly by two, but the blankness of it's walls and emptiness of its floors offered an opportunity the _Bough's_ never did. It was simply furnished, making it look like it had been looted of all it's personality before Teague had purchased it but she knew Teague saw unquestionable possibilities for this space. Only a few pieces of furniture filled in the odd corner, but it was that few that gave Belle a jolt of pleasure.

Directly before her, standing before the window were two wingback chairs, one a dark hunter green and the other a deep shade of navy. Between them was a small table, bottle and two glasses. Arabelle smiled up at Teague and allowed him to walk her to them. Arriving at the chairs Arabelle sat in the blue chair and sighed as Teague sat beside her, gazing over the room and nodded.

"Aye, this will do."

"It's not too big?" She inquired, specking in general of the vessel they now occupied.

"Ney. I'll have the men bring your things up today."

Arabelle turned to Teague suddenly, realizing he wasn't speaking of the ship alone.

"So you best get out to the shops. As soon as we transfer goods we'll be leaving on the tide. If you want to make changes you'll have to do it soon or wait until we reach Souillac."

"I…" Arabelle closed her mouth, her eyes suddenly realizing the unspoken message beyond his eyes. She smiled faintly. "I thought I was a distraction."

"Ahh." Teague slid to his feet with a crockery grin and walked to the double doors, seemingly appearing abruptly in the middle of the wall. "That's where you are wrong."

Arabelle smiled, furrowing her brow with curiosity as she stood and met him as he threw the doors open to reveal yet another room of similar size outfitted with Teague's own desk, chair and huge meeting table. Arabelle smile deepened as she caught sight of the familiar pieces and watched as Teague stepped inside and pointed out another door.

"This you see is where I will be able to work undisturbed, any wanting a word will enter through that door and these doors will remain locked, unless you or I make use of them."

"Will I be able to visit you here or am I barred?"

Teague smirked as he met her at the door's once more, brushing some hair from her ear he flashed a grin through his eyes.

"My doors will always be open."

Arabelle smiled and gave him a kiss. "Then I shall have to keep my interruptions to a minimum, or I will never leave. Just knowing you are there, behind the doors, will have to be enough to console me."

"Good. Now, I've got a ship full of wigs wanting a word, and you've got a cabin to furnish. I'll expect you here for dinner."

"Is Thomas christening the galley?"

Teague smirked. "Christening the cabin's more like it."

Arabelle blushed softly and smiled lightly. "I'll find something for the occasion then."

Teague's eyes danced but he didn't see a word, only gave her a kiss and sent her on her way- in anticipation for that evening but distracted by much work needing to be completed swiftly.

* * *

Later that night, with Thomas' brilliant dinner enjoyed and cleared away, Arabelle sat with Teague looking around the cabin with complete satisfaction for the work she had completed. Tapestries now hung on the two largest walls, an ornate rug covered half the floor and several new pieces of furniture dotted the remainder of floor space.

Now snuggled up next to Teague in their new bed ordained with luxurious quilts and large feather pillows Arabelle smiled up at him.

"I like it. The _Misty Lady_. It is a good proper name for her."

"Aye. Palmer has a craftsman commissioned to paint the name across the stern. When we reach Fort Dauphine I'll have a shipwright carve a proper title banner into her stern."

"We'll be docked for some time I imagine."

"Aye. I want the ship outfitted properly before we make our next trip through the islands."

"Mmm. Do you think we'll have time to do some more shopping? The cabin is still a little bare."

"Aye, but I have to admit luv, you did a fair job with only a few hours." Teague said genuinely as he stroked her hand.

"This was all I could find myself. Next time I want you to come with me. I have no idea what's quality."

"Just buy what you like."

"But I want to be able to make sense of quality when I see it. You clearly know, you've come into a lot of merchandise and always the best adorns your ship."

"Aye, you're right." Teague smiled secretly. "We'll go together."

Arabelle smiled with satisfaction and stroked her slightly round belly.

"So… we're going to have to start thinking of a name."

Teague scoffed and raised his glass of wine to his lips.

"Surly we don't have to think about that yet."

"Yes but we'll need to do it soon."

"We've got months." He retorted with a smile.

"Teague."

"Alright, alright. What do we have to work with."

"Well I've always liked Elaina for a girl."

Teague cleared his throat. "I don't think…"

"What, why? It's a beaut-" Arabelle replied in haste but bit her tongue when he raised his brows slightly.

"How about Jacqueline? It was my grandmother's name."

Teague nodded. "Not bad. A little formal."

"We can shorten it for everyday use." She defended.

"Aye. So we have one."

"What about you? Which baby girl names do you like."

"Camille."

Arabelle smiled, swishing it around in her mouth a moment.

"I like it."

Teague smiled lightly, taking another sip of wine as he too swished it about in his mind. _Camille Teague_. It sounded downright rouge.

"So it's either Jacqueline or Camille for a girl, and for a boy?"

"Roux or Jack."

Arabelle smiled once more at his swiftness. "What about Edward?"

"Ney, you can use that for a middle name if you must but I don't want me son to be known as Edward Teague III. It's a bit of a mouth full to be yelling with a brandished cutlass in the heat of battle."

"Are you assuming that our child will be a heartless pirate or rouge with some fearsome bloodlust?"

Teague smiled, leaning over her for a kiss. "With parent's such as these who could expect less?"

Arabelle smiled against his lips and closed her eyes.

It was true, regardless of the gender this child would be born into a turbulent world with influences hardly suitable for a child, but that didn't matter. Arabelle knew, regardless of any precautions she and Teague might take to shade their babe from it's father's world she knew that one day it would find it's way to the sea. It's way to a life of freedom and adventure.

* * *

Draining his mug Teague sat for a long time before he leaned over and wiped his brow. Jack sat forward, suddenly anxious for the sudden pause in the story.

"Da?"

"That's it." Teague grumbled. "There's no more."

"No more? Da, there's a whole 'nother forty years."

Teague stood abruptly, causing Jack to jump back and bite his tongue. As his father's eyes washed across the room he could see the pain written clearly across them. He had been too presumptuous in expecting to get the entire story about his parents in one sitting. Picking up his mug, as his father moved across the room, he drained it then stood himself. Slowly Jack lifted his jacket off his chair and threw it on, picked up his hat and held it feebly in his limp hands.

"Thanks Da." He mumbled, stopping the old man in his tracks. "…for sittin' down and talkin' 'bout her."

Teague nodded, gazing out the window but not saying a word.

"Would you mind… if I came back, next time I'm… you know… when I'm around."

Teague glanced across the room, silent for a long moment before he replied. "Ney."

Jack flashed a quiet grin then lowered his eyes, remembering something. Slipping his hand into his pocket Jack pulled out a small tin box, black and etched with gold. Rolling it around in his hand Jack took a deep breath.

"Da, I found this with mum's things, in a locked box… and… I thought you might want it back. Looks real."

Teague glanced over his shoulder and catching sight of the small black box he turned away once more.

"Aye it's real." he confirmed bluntly. "I don't want it."

"But da, it's-"

"It was her engagement ring. She put it away for you when you found need for it."

Jack looked down at the box with hooded eyes, not even noticing Teague stagger at the window and clutch the sill.

"Don't slide it onto a finger in haste."

"Ney, I won't."

"Good. Now leave me. You've upset many memories I wished to forget."

Jack hesitated, but then reluctantly nodded and slipped the box back into his pocket as he returned his old hat to his head. Heading to the door without a word Jack paused on the threshold and looked back into the small dark library, and the old man standing by the window. Then, without saying a word, he slipped out the door and from his father's home.

Teague closed his eyes and listened to the dark silence wash through the small rooms and narrow halls as it did each time Jack had closed the door behind him. It had been easier with Arabelle, but now as Teague turned to face the room and the empty chair by the fire the weight returned to his heart along with the silence ringing in his ears.

He glanced around the room and could still hear her voice calling from the next, see her book on the chair, or smell her long hair drenched in sunshine. Teague closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The memories, he thought he had put them behind him but now he knew he was wrong. He would never forget her. He didn't want to.

* * *

Jack, some time later, sat at the desk in his cabin, pleased to feel the lull of the waves and have the creaking of the hull reach his ears once more. He sat idle staring at the small black box upon his desk, now open and flaunting it's contents with unabashed pride. Sitting back, with a sad smile upon his lips he looked at it with one person in mind.

Smiling broadly Jack wiped his mouth, trying to cover the grin but in vain.

It was his mother's wish, his mother's gift and he would not waste it. No, he not waste it but he would not hold onto it for long. Jack looked down at the map under the box and smiled as he looked at the island scratched across the paper. Their destination. Home.

* * *

: As Teague put it 'That's it.' It's the end of _Story Time_. How did you like it? I'd love to hear your thoughts. I appreciate you all and all your comments so thank you. Thanks for reading. Goodnight!


End file.
